Saturday, November 27, 2010


The house is still there
If you want to go, you know where
It is where we came from
Where we huddled in
Against the wind
I go in and look at them
Reenact for me
What we've been
What we've seen
Some names I do not know
They may even have died
There is this scene
Of two children
Huddled inside warm blankets
Cosy on the cot,
Hearing the thunder crash
The wind shaking the doors
Like a wild beast
Yet they are hardly frightened
For mother is cooking something hot
And father is on his reclining chair.
There are four of us
In that scene
Now, only I am left
If you go there
Maybe, you'll find your way here
Then there will be two of us left.

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