Lyon Station 1943

We see a child
On a train,
Wonder where she is heading
Surrounded by so many soldiers.
We hear the steam
The grinding of wheels.
Feel the pain
As the child
Bangs her head on a door.

We stand alone
Faces of starved sorrow
Eyes like stone marbles
Fear destroying all of our hearts.

The train moves away
We hear the child screaming
Ina sweet Jewish accent.

We look at each other
Our bile has sunk so low
It looks as if
We are smiling.

The train is gone,
We may be thankful that
The child will not scream
Much longer.

In the distance
We hear soft crying
Like a plane flying overhead
Or the richoet of a bullet.

by Jacques du Lumerie

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