By Lydia Mardin

(Class of 2018)

A sick, cold widowed young woman-

Boarded the train to freedom on a cold, dark Thursday morning.

The train car was frigid, small and had a terrible smell.

The dark floorboards of the car became wet-

The woman screamed-

This dark, wet floor became her bed.

The woman screams as a new life feels the brisk air for the first time-

It is finally over.

She sighs in relief and realizes a name from between her dry, pale lips-

“David,” for the name of the beautiful star she believes in.

The baby gives a scream of freedom.

The new tired, suffering mother gives her last breath as she slowly lies her head down-

Her last vision is her boy as she closes her eyes on her new family and on an old existence.

David is wrapped tightly in his mother’s woven, dirty purple shawl.

The women gather around the new child and decide who will take him-

A young woman, small and weak in body, big and strong in heart volunteers to take the boy.

She takes him into her frail arms and kisses him on his little forehead.

The woman, no more than 21, realises her newest journey.

From the terrible life in a Siberian camp, she journeys back with her new son-

Back to Poland.

Pure, white, snow falls around the rusty, black train,

Signaling that ashes don’t fall anymore where they are going.

They are finally free and safe.

The mom, Esther, holds baby David tightly to her body-

Protecting the new vulnerable life.

She smiles, as does he.

From the death of a horrible tragedy comes a life of new freedom.


One Response to “National Poetry Month”

  • Judy says:

    I live in a city where it rains almost all year round (which drives me nuts, btw). And I've been looking for those round umbrellas since I moved here! Th#9ye3&;re just so cute and they hold up pretty well when the wind decides that it wants to embarrass you…L

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