Those awful men in droves, under a banner of red,
They claimed all your land, to see you drowned and dead.
You hid in forests, and distant glen,
Just to see the sun rise, open your eyes again.

You and your friends, ran for your lives,
The storm had come, under dark black skies.
On a packed quayside, you made it to the sea,
The last ship to sail, and your dignity.

We have no idea, of the horrors you endured,
Of spiteful men running that war.
Upon a packed boat, overseas you were brought,
With just a dream, to our golden shores.

From camp to camp, you were pushed and shoved,
Never felt at home, always unloved.
Purely by chance, perhaps by fate,
You came across my family, and not too late.

They took you in, gave you a room,
A hot bowl of soup, not a moment too soon.
You settled in, a roof over your head,
You looked back East, with unsettling dread.

You worked in the mine, and tunnels you sunk,
Tended your plot, thoughts locked in a trunk.
A reliable rock, strong, resolute,
Principled mind, honest, true.

When children came, you were constantly there,
With red-rosy cheeks, and thinning white hair.
You repaid in spades, that hand you were dealt,
As our family grew large, their homes you helped build.

We held hands in the sea, frollicking in surf,
You never once let on, of all your anguish or hurt.
A permanent fixture, in our celebrations,
You showered us with love, and affectations.

With acerbic wit and stubborn smile,
One more step, mile after mile.
Your beloved plot, and so much veg,
Potatoes and beans as high as a hedge.

Your affinity with animals, was so well known,
From pups to dogs, you watched us all grow.
Your love of food, you knew all those tricks,
But your favourite was, bread and garlic.

With arms of steel, and teak-coloured skin,
A strong beating heart, lay deep within.
Your generous nature, knew no bounds,
A prince among men, with no crown of thorns.

Oh and your whiskey, the legendary brew,
Perhaps a tot of vodka, red wine too.
You didn’t do bad, for a man of 87,
Of physical action, and homely ambition.

Grandma and Jack, at the end of their lives,
Had you to thank, for your comforting smiles.
Mopping their brow, in times of need,
Their plaintive cries, you did heed.

In ninety-four as walls fell down,
Your thoughts went back, to those back home.
At long long last, you were able to see,
All those you lost, friends and family.

They came over here, amid much rejoicing,
Of tables of food, and generous hosting.
The smile on your face, to see was a treat,
It seemed your life, was now made complete.,

As strong and determined, as you always were,
You moved to a house, so you could be near.
For many a year, you lived a life of bliss,
Not a second you wasted, nor a moment you missed.

In your final days, as strong as you were,
Those cancerous cells, made their feelings clear.
Into a sleep you fell, you succumbed to the light,
Peaceful at last, a glass by your side,

We all sat in church, over here and there,
Your heart was in prayer, your home in Latvia.
We all said our thanks, for generations of love,
And times of great peril, when you lifted us up.

We all sang a hymn, so apt and precise,
Of Gods green land, rolling and nice.
Of how you made a home, your own Jerusalem,
From your native earth.