Where I came from
small armies of children
played safely on sidewalks
we were bent
and straight as posts
and singularly white.
A tiny few
seasoned old Jews
pursued by older world ghosts
worried that fate
rushed our way
unseen
and trembled
for the young
unescorted.
Some of the mothers
alone with their kids
bent low under burdens
and some men
gripped by secrets and anguish
beat children and wives
and one, maybe,
beat the boy with no name
who collapsed on the street.
Where I came from
small armies of children
played on the streets
unheeding and most of us
safe.
And the nightmares we knew,
and the ones we saw coming
were nothing
like the ones
we face now.
No comments:
Post a Comment