A little girl,
Petite,
Sightless.
She wakes,
And remembers,
Why she is here,
In the musty,
Cobweb-y,
Cellar.
Dawn?
Is it here?
Climb the ladder,
Listen hard.
Sirens?
Shouts?
None to be heard.
House gone?
War withdrawn?
Possibilities,
Ideas,
Bursting at the seams!
But no,
Not yet.
Be safe.
Do not leave protection yet.
Germans victorious?
She cannot peek.
She cannot know.
Uncle scared,
Crouched,
Delusional,
Beneath the stairs.
Seeing demons?
Or is he dead?
Save the food,
"Be wise,"
She thinks,
But soon enough,
The bread is gone.
Bored.
Sleepy.
Should have brought her book.
Sock feet surge forth,
Scouting the way,
Roving the darkness.
Items unused,
Smells like mice.
More antiques,
Madame's supplies.
Her feet find,
Joined by wandering hands,
A miracle.
Cans!
Food!
What can it be?
Peas?
Beans?
Corn?
Grain?
No food upstairs,
But here,
Where darkness reigns,
And fears collide,
Two cans.
Heavy cans.
A miracle.
"A miracle,"
Thinks she,
"Indeed."
(Poem is inspired by page 206 of All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr .)
YOU ARE READING
Poems from the Right Brain
PoetrySome silly, some not. Some lighthearted, some littered with thought. Some passionate, some numb. Some so clever, some outright dumb. Some more cautious, some bursting with tears. Some revealing memories, some unveiling my fears. So here's my heart...
