This Man

60 years ago, a man was shot,
A man I never knew,
In his small wooden boat
Just off the shore
Of a once beautiful French beach.
This man, a man I never knew,
Did not die there that day,
But all others on his little boat did.
All shot and killed
Before they could even exit
Their tiny wooden boat;
Shot and killed by
What many thought
Was the Beast.
In many ways, he was the Beast.
All knew the End was near.
Yet, on this day
Hope came back;
Hope not for just those
Who lived in that country,
But all who opposed the Beast.
This man, a man I never knew,
Was my grandfather;
Gone before I was conceived.
Was he a hero?
I am sure many will say so.
Was he a good man?
I do not know.
Was he a kind man?
I do not know.
What I know of him
Is only through his words
Handed down for my father to me:
“Pretty is as pretty does”
I am told;
“Poor people have poor ways”
I am also told;
“If you don’t like the fish,
Don’t poke out his eyes,
Put him back in the wagon”
Was he a wise man?
Maybe so.
Yet, the story of that day,
D-Day,
Is enough for me to know.
Maybe he was just a kid,
Doing his job or
Maybe he was a loyal patriot
Who loved his country so.
All of that, I do not know.
For years, his story
Of that day on the beach,
Was all I knew.
Did I understand,
The full ramifications of that act,
That day at his job?
No.
For many years
I knew of the Big One,
I knew of the Evil,
The Holocaust,
The death and destruction.
Yet, it was not until I saw a movie,
That I fully understood.
So intense was the scene!
So horrible!
So bloody!
So unbelievable to me!
How could any man do that?
They did as they could.
Yet, I could begin to understand
How indescribably horrendous,
The carnage,
The death,
The destruction.
My heart sank.
Tears came to my eyes.
These were just kids;
Kids like I was when I heard the story;
Young men just trying to live there life’s.
Yet, they were brave;
They were strong;
They were victorious.
Many did to come home
As this man did,
This man I never knew.