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Wayfarer
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Part II: Ewa
Without a pause
Told us the numbers he had tattooed on his arm
Without a stir, a single shake she carried on
Told us her father never spoke much of the war
He said “words only miss the mark”
She said, “It's hard not to just let this swallow me.
After all this, is there still a place for poetry
But if he saw Beauty in a daughters kiss
Saw it in sovereignty without bloodshed
Then you kids have no excuse for not seeing it”
With steady hands she flipped through days
From the years she lay awake
When she would write down everything
And wonder what her Babcia would think
And what her Dziadek would have said
About her love for the classics
And the way she taught us kids
The things that no one else had said
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About the choice to fight or flee
About how the romantics loved to write in blood not ink
She said you can't dwell
But don't forget
Without a pause
Told us the numbers he had tattooed on his arm
Without a stir, a single shake she carried on
Told us her father never spoke much of the war
He said “words only miss the mark”
She said, “find your place
Between tradition and disruption and dismay
Find a freedom in yourself or deep in faith
Because he'd hate to see you throw this all away”
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