Barbara Grocholska-Kurkowiak

And we did not perish

And we did not die
hit

nor from a stray bullet
that brushed against us
for some unknown reason
exactly us
and what were we to do
with the gifted life

August two thousand and one
with an honor guard
by the split rock
and candles
we stand in a minute of silence

we do not resemble at all
the boys and girls
of those days

only photographs remember
how we looked

attention

I know the spark
lifting the head of an old woman
straightening a limping man

she lives inside
buried by everyday life
covered by a dark curtain

awakens on anniversaries
like a spur urging a horse

“hey boys, bayonet on the gun”
kamikaze
and – POLAND POLAND

(like today – Vistula Vistula)

we stand opposite the young
upright
in ceremonial uniforms

but it is us, hunched
who know

*
then I was behind glass
as if I did not know tears

today I tremble

so that never again