 | It goes on burning in the bones,
in the brain, years after, smoke
still rising behind the walls, even on
May second, a birthday to liberate
all others. In Poland, though the stone
well-water near Tylicz never ceases,
it never soothes the smoldering,
nor the fearful dreams fueling sleep.
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| For months a redwood tree can flame
the fire that consumes it, burning
a black scar to its core. Within the
burnt sepulchre, as if a miracle, seeds
bearing a young tree begin to green. Let
us sift the ashes for new life, for the story
forged in suffering; where the birth into
language is as terrifying as fire or love. A
NNETTE
A
LLEN
The Story (for Rena)
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