Shoulders

SHOULDERS
--For Brian McSheffey

In 1949, my father came to Liverpool
Seeking full employment on the Mersey docks
The war just four years over, and no work for him in Ireland
All he asked from England was a steady job

It’s true that there were jobs, but it was only daily labor
Some mornings he was hired for the working crew
Sometimes a week went by with hands deep in empty pockets
Adversity and poverty were all he knew

We are carried on the shoulders
Of those who came before us
Such an over-used cliché
Such a tired, empty phrase
But my own father carried me
From Liverpool to London
On whose shoulders are we carried
In these days

So my father and his comrades set out to march to London
To ask the Queen for justice for the working class
To tell her those who’d fought the war had died for more than England
And with the peace should come a steady job at last
The day they started marching, I stood beside my father
I thought he was the bravest man I’d ever seen
He knelt down unexpectedly and set me on his shoulder
And we marched off together to confront the Queen

I do not know how far it is from Liverpool to London
I don’t pretend that I recall each day and night
But when I close my eyes I can feel his face against me
As I rode into London on my father’s pride
These days when oh so many look for work on every corner
When justice seems so distance and the way so fraught
I recall us marching and from high up on his shoulder
I see the better world for which my father fought

We are carried on the shoulders
Of those who came before us
Such an over-used cliché
Such a tired, empty phrase
But my own father carried me
From Liverpool to London
On whose shoulders are we carried
In these troubling days
On whose shoulders are we carried
In these days