In Tribute to Ann Frank

Tread softly, tread softly, boots marching to the thud Of a cobblestoned beat. Tramp upon, beat upon a huddled figure in breathless darkened ruins impaled. Tread softly, more, more softly.She clutches ravenous dreams toward emaciated glow.She raises her delicate head, her stalked, fragile-stemmed neck, raises her woman- child limbs emaciated by hunger. Tramp upon, beat upon, softly. tread most softly.Glistening bridges, water furtively stealing through treacherous nights.This night it is after night, it is morning, it is after morning. It is night again. I will walk and run and laugh and dance over bridges curved in sunny air, bitter salt of the great ocean patiently throbbing. I will walk, I will run Spun into green-core earth.Arrows pierce a woman's heart in still, chilled sleep.She spins, antique bird of velvet in a carpeted night. I looked for the world everywhere But I did not find it. Child-woman resting now, sleeping now peaceful now, suspended beyond beloved bridges in hazy dusky glow.I still believe that people are good
 © Ilana W. Haley 2016