A Great Man?

You aspired to a Victorian ideal,
my shroud of a father,
my poor pinched giver
of skewed advice, of a knowing
that was off-scale, out of its time.

Once you were enormous,
towered over us as tots,
had visions that lit the future,
you were a colossus, a beacon
for our moth-like love.

Trapped by your parents
in an emotional iron lung
not allowed to breathe unaided
even when released you limped,
slipped knitting, not quite sound.

All my days you’ve been
shrinking, or I have loomed
up from nothing to overshadow
your self-image, leader, great man
whose followers lost their faith.