The Peasant

  Anton, at the age of 75-years old (1969)

The sketch was drawn by the poet- author, Dr. Dennis L. Siluk

(1891-1974)

My grandfather, he grew up near Grodno, Russia, in 1891, near  

       great estates and untilled land, a peasant’s son of peasantry

A farm worker of no degree; whose father lived without land, and

       very little bread, died one afternoon by falling off his roof top, Trying to mend a hole in the wooden tile; he was buried like many,  

       without much style.

Back then, back in 1914, unbreakable men fought thankless Struggles to gain a living from the harsh soil, and long toil, which

       was all fruitless, in the end, and then war came; and my Grandfather went to America, only to come back and fight again,

       this time in the trenches of France.

He was bred from a race of men who were rough, willful and

       stubborn: men of action: smiling was contempt, showed a

       weakness, I know: my mother and brother, and even I—to a

       small degree, inherited that trait—if not sin.

He could neither read nor write, but he had pride and a fierce belief

       in human dignity! 

Such is the person from which I came; we were born an ocean

       apart and then some, again—again in the humblest of families: But Russian we were, and proud to be, not a cringe when we said it.

Thus I carry it, on my side, like a pistol in its holster. Against  

       oppression and unauthorized influence, rebels along my life’s

       road.

Like so many Russian-Americans, I was impatient of restraint, at  

       times hostile to authority, a believer in direct ardent justice;

Went to war when I was called, under the American flag, sacrificed

       myself for the sake and good will of my land, like so many.

Now at sixty-four, no longer in those ceaseless years of struggle, 

       nor the bitter hatred of the servant, I recall my grandfather’s

       roots: long overdue.

In the past, my mind said: “Silence, step back” now it says: be

       proud, step forward, acknowledge your heritage. 

In life I wanted to strike a real blow, thus I became Poet Laureate of

       Peru with a doctorate degree; you see Grandpa, what you Helped make me?

Note: Dedicated to my Grandfather, Anton Siluk, WWI, Veteran; Russian-American, and Vladimir V. Putin, President of Russia, may the world be safer because of Russia and America, and my Grandfather.

#3432 (9-25-2012) in Classic Narrative and Natural Poetic Prose