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Darlene Moore Berg

About this Christian Poet:
I am first a Christian, second a wife and mother, third a physician by vocation and a poet then by avocation. I currently live in Missouri where I practice pediatrics and am a member of the "sandwich generation". I have had a love for the written word from the moment I learned how to read . As part of my education in the middle grades, I was required to memorize one poem a month. Writing poetry for me basically started in high school and has been off and on ever since. Submitting work and having work published has been mainly the last seven years. I have been privileged to have poems in the Christian poetry journals of Time of Singing and A New Song and also The Penwood Review and online in Dayspring.

Sir Dad

He reflected the sun, the moon, the stars to me,
His armor bright, polished, gleaming.
I shadowed my eyes with my hands
in order to watch him in full regalia
charge through life’s tourneys—
large and valiant, a hero—
my father, my knight.

Tarnished armor:
mirror-like silver, dull grey patina,
black, no light reflected.

Retirement. Discards of past victories
shelved away in labeled boxes in the hall closet.
Memories of Truth, Integrity, Honour—
Forgive an old fool.
Sorrow of wisdom won—late.
The castle sold; milady moved.

The armor doesn’t fit anymore,
perhaps, it never did.
I pick up a piece of it, rub it with my sleeve.
Still silver underneath the black.

Not a hero, not a statue up on a pedestal,
not a knight pursuing some holy grail—
a man, my father.
A few dents on the breastplate, battle-scarred.

We walk together; his hair a helmet of dun grey metal,
mine a scarf woven with a thread or two of white.
We stroll across a bridge side by side.
Grandsons tug insistently on his wrinkled, greave-less hands.
We stand before the mirrored surface of a lake.
We may never understand completely our reflections there—
The choices we each have made.
The intensity of feelings fade—Pax Familia.

Copyright©2002 by Darlene Moore Berg