The man from Jarrow

The man from Jarrow.


He stood before me now as if in a dream.
Bull buffalo.
Two ‘side of beef’ arms hanging on each side of that massive frame, adorned with vivid tattoos- rainbows. snakes, parrots, vultures and butterflies.
Amazing.
He spoke. Python tongued. In a language I found difficult to understand but only an extreme dialect of our islands.
A formidable opponent- but an even better friend.
Tough on the outside but marshmallow within.
Ties closer than mere blood.
Could this amazing man really be my ancestor? Was he really anything to do with me?
He was a ray of pure sunlight in a dark world.
He moved with strength and grace. A cheetah on the African plains. A dolphin in the ocean. But just a man.
He spoke of things I did not understand.
His willingness to take responsibility onto his own shoulders.
Holding the world at bay on his massive frame, for me.
A colossus.
He was quite a man, this man from Jarrow.
I swell with pride that I spent time with him and that he knows I carry his memory in my heart.