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儿子十三岁写的诗 Injured Souls (A holocaust poem)
送交者: 远客 2005年12月01日13:44:02 于 [诗词歌赋] 发送悄悄话

Playing,
playing with all we knew,
with the life we enjoyed,
with the families we loved,
with the friends we had,
with the possessions we owned,
with the place we lived in.

Darkness,
covering us, scaring us,
making fun of us for our ignorance,
laughing at us, toying with us,
making sure we didn't know what's next.

Light,
insulting us, punishing us,
not understanding why we refused,
interrogating us, not forgiving us,
not being sympathetic at all.

Hope,
running away, being weak,
separating itself from us,
being bullied, giving up,
being selfish and not helping us.

Loneliness,
ripping us, tearing us,
throwing us into the chamber of despair,
controling us, catching us,
making sure we were with it.

Freedom,
some with bodies some without,
appearing heavenly, slowly but eventually,
welcoming, expecting, comforting,
happy, grateful, and relieving.

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