My Grandfather fought an Evil,

as all who lived in dark times

swore to do, that came

with shiny jackboots

and a list of names to shoot

should they get past Dover.

One Great Grandfather was the chief

stoker on the ship that took the King

to the edge of freedom

as the world declared

no more, no more lists,

no more boots kicking down the door.

Another of that generation

defied the bombs

that flew over Birmingham,

his name stands in testament

to the fallen civilians, his remains

only identified by a crushed wedding ring.

Yet further still

back in time, a Great, Great man

took to the skies as an early pioneer

his uniform I have seen

in faded sepia, before he faced the

unknown, sailing upon the Atlantic Ocean.

My mother, proud Cornish woman,

worked at the cliff face of nursing duties,

like my Godmother, my aunts,

many brilliant women

dedicating themselves to healing the sick,

and then there is me…

I look to them

and I feel inadequate

in the face of family heroes

that fought disease, a vile blackness,

and I sit on my chair

writing about changing the world…

…they are the ones who gave me

the opportunity to be different

through their sacrifices.

Ian D. Hall 2020