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I remember my father's scarsThere was that nasty one
Just below his lower lip
"Went all the way through" he said
"Jap guard hit me with a bamboo stick"
Then there were the ones
That crisscrossed the back of his head
More blows
From bamboo sticks
And there was the round scar
On his right hand
That one came from a bailing hook
"Guard didn't think I was moving fast enough"
"Put that hook right through my hand"
And there was the one on his right shin
Nice big messy one
That one was from a piece of shrapnel
from an American bomb
"Japs made us put out fires
While American planes were bombing" he said
"Jap Doc made me put my leg up on a chair
"While he used the probe to pull the shrapnel out"
"He smiled when he asked me if it hurt"
And then there were the ones
That you couldn't see
Not unless you looked real close
Not unless you were still awake
When he came home drunk some nights
Not unless you noticed that he didn't cry
At the deaths of his father, or mother, or sister
Not unless you noticed that when you were spanked
The blows, sometimes, seemed to be extra mean
Not unless you noticed that he never showed much affection
Not unless you noticed that on the day he died
It looked as if he had purposefully pulled
The oxygen tube from his nose
Yes, I remember my father's scars
