A Poem

January 6, 2022

 
 
Walking towards winter sun, facing
the old growth, oak forest,
I meditate; a memory arises
 
of that man in a shirt with the name
of a place the Gestapo had decided
to send my grandfather so long ago.
 
Shocked that this fresh new year should display
such a shirt once more, along with violence and hate.
My shoes are soaked with tears
glistening in the grass.
 
 
(c) Gudrun Mouw



3 Comments

  1. Lindy Kern said:

    Oh Krishnaprema- my heart weeps.

    January 8, 2022
    • Gudrun Mouw said:

      I am touched by your response. Namaste, Krishnaprema

      January 11, 2022

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