REMEMBER THE CHILD

Remember the child
under the barbed wire,
the one with that laugh
which will never disappear
on the face of the earth,
remember her
hurting your conscience
in the silence of winter
and the great wind
when the snow shatters
your mariner journey
over distant land and sea
now meeting again that refugee
on the hospital ship
in the rain
bundled up in fake fur
who is now a painter and sculptor
as you are drawing or writing
or just thinking about her
on the day's calendar
when quarter blood moons
are on your cut knee
as you watch a tiny bird
fall from the Evergreen tree
and you catch her
or when you encounter
others in the grief
of city street darkness,
when your red eye
closes on the day
when love leaves
like an after shadow
and death belongs
to forgetfulness
in the world of words
no and yes,
remember her.