This Father’s Day and the Euro 2016 games, in which Hungary made a historic soccer comeback, beating Austria and achieving a tie with Iceland, brought back some memories for Montreal-based poet Endre Farkas of his own father, and of his days in a World War II labour camp…
Hajduhadház
Father’s Day, June 19, 2016
My son is watching
Eurocup soccer 2016.
I am not. He texts me
about Hungary’s chances.
Long gone
you are here in front of me
in a team picture
middle row, right
wearing the labour camp uniform
VI/1.
Conscripted
but not permitted to carry a gun.
They thought you and the others might
turn on the officers and guards.
Serious
way beyond your 22 years
oval face smooth shaven
your moustache
which I’ve never seen you without
immaculately trimmed.
You loved the game
even in that camp
polite name for Jew prison.
After back breaking labour
demeaning tasks
abusive masters
you found that passion
and strength
for a game that freed you
for a moment.
There you are
part of the all-Jewish team
arms about each other
just before being shipped off
to a concentration camp.
Probably
none of the team
or the commanding officer and coach
or those off to the side
watching
are alive today.
They never returned to be fathers
or if they did, like you, live only
in memories of their children
like you in mine.
You passed on that love
Like an heirloom
Joyously
I spent it.
I have a team photo of me
About the same age as you
my face same oval shape
but no moustache
grinning and holding a cup.
We both won.
I have passed on that passion
the way a half-back puts a lead pass
to a streaking forward.
My son is texting me
Hungary just scored
and wishing me Happy Father’s day.
Endre Farkas
