A MID-LIFE CRISIS
Through Dante's dark wood
you don't stroll, you crawl.
The heaviness of the trees,
the blackness of their leaves,
bring you down before them all.
Though soon you will see a light
in the life-crisis of your midnight.
HARROWING HOLOCAUST
Heavy as an army tank
was the air, how it stank
of sweat, blood and death.
A camp built to steal the breath
of the very old, the very young,
of every age. All sure were dumb
but for the likes of Sophie Scholl
whose own head was to roll.
Yes heavy as an army tank
was the air for Anna Frank.
No comments:
Post a Comment