Surviving the night
turned out to be
the easy part.
Hell was what followed
in the days
and many nights to come.
Hundreds of days,
hundreds of nights,
enough to eat the heart
and reave the soul.
This,
as bitter winter
turned to spring
and hope died
on the vine,
as summer soon succumbed
to the holocaust.
Autumn died,
as autumn always does,
but this year we prayed
not for the snow to come
and bring with it
the festive season,
but we wished
it would come
to cover over our dead.
A year passed,
and then another,
each one harder
than the last.
People faces
and bodies changed,
but you could see
the creature behind the eyes
had been transformed.
Broken by spring.
We sat and watched
the snow turn into mud.
The green shoots
of new life never came.
The air,
heavy with smoke and ash
did not bear the scent
of a new day.
More hope lost.
More people gone.
The looming scythe
of extermination
hanging over every head.
We keep breathing
and we pray,
now out of
some engrained reflex,
more so than Faith.
If we can still breathe,
if we can still pray,
we know
we are still alive.
Bitter hot sun bakes
the ground, and the trees
hide in their own shade.
Flies and spiders crawl,
as if they know
the world will soon be theirs
once again.
Then, one day
there is silence.
It must be
that we are dead.
We wait
for the trumpets
and the angels
to proclaim our fate.
Instead,
I hear the warbling
of a male nuthatch
and after a moment,
a female calls in return.
Have we survived
another winter?
Have we really
lived through
this long night?
It seems that way.
The air is clear
and off in the distance
we can hear
a joyful cry
and I can feel the tears.
So much time has gone,
but we remain.
So many fell along the way.
And so many
will stay
broken in their state.
It will be up to us
to take up living.
Remember,
but not let this be our fate.
Standing
and walking on our way
to life,
and love,
and freedom
once again.
I am amazed at what we can endure,
but I wish
it need not be so.
Freedom ends
so easily
when we let it go,
so we must hold.
HG – 2022
