Auckland Poetry

The Forgotten Remembered  

It’s so long ago I’m not sure whether it was a dream, it happened at quiet a corner of a land where, although occupied by the enemy, war’s cruelty hadn’t reached yet. There was a prison camp nearby, Russians I think, guards let me feed them scraps of food as they looked benignly on at this scene of sweet innocence. A cold early morning many shots had been fired but no one knew why and after dinner I went to feed prisoners leftovers; the camp’s gate was open and they lay on the ground, some with eyes open, yet unseeing and there was blood in the snow. I must have been there long time it began snowing again and flakes of gentle crystal covered their faces and I wondered why. A giant soldier with his rifle slung across his massive shoulder, came, took me by the hand and led me back to the farm; whispering voices, they put me at the front of the log fire, I was very cold, everyone was so kind that I began crying gave me hot, sweet cocoa to drink.   

Trackback URI | Comments RSS