Armour

You took your father’s armour, when the time came—

You, not one who was unprepared to fight.

But when he saw, how great the lamentations

That never reached you, vanished in the night.

Armoured and armed; your comrades did not know you

(Those self-made men, each his old father’s son)

But you declined the son of heav’n’s distinctions

And left behind the battles you had won.

When you returned home, you arrived a hero

And in the dust that shrouds your father’s grave

Traces of his smile still lingered. But your sister,

She fell for the guy she pretends she can save

And every day your mother worries her waist smaller

There are things your father’s armour cannot take

(Your best friend says nothing, but you know; you know)

Though your mother keeps it polished for your sake.

What good is it, when you know she wants grandchildren—

What good, struggling in heels at the singles’ greets?

At night, you (you, of all people, can it be?) are afraid;

In your nightmares you take the well-lit streets.