Poem Hunter
(04 October 1943 / Germany)


A fitful sleep of nightmares and mean gremlins
came to an end at dawn's uncertain light.
The sheets were tangled, soaked and thus quite simply useless
and, half-asleep, I knew this morning might
decide what hovered as a threat so close to both,
and brave enough I was not on this morning,
the knife word 'if' had started cutting lightly,
but I must know, cannot survive without it,
so 'face the music' as the lucky people say.

The sun awoke, began to polish gently all her rays.
With special care and fond anticipation,
and the occasion, let me be the first to say
is that WE are, YES, alright and that is the summation.
What had been causing mad, unruly, hurtful skirmish
was a persistent devil of the evil kind.
Yet love was there and conquered all detractions,
that's why the sunshine was so brilliant for our mind.
When was the last time you have crossed a swollen river
of trickery and pitfalls, all homemade?
And when you had how did you know the hazy feeling
that was your truth but did not look much like a friend.
It's called 'our happiness', quite rare in most encounters,
you welcome it with open arms but fear
that an imposter could have come to visit
to leave you yet without a paddle up the creek.

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