IN TRIBUTE TO ANNE FRANK
Tread softly, tread softly,
boots marching to the thud
of a cobblestoned beat.
Tramp on, beat on,
A huddled figure in breathlessness,
Darkened ruins, impaled.
Tread softly, more, more softly.
She clutches ravenous dreams
Towards emaciated glow.
She raises her delicate head, her stalked,
fragile-stemmed neck, raises her woman- child
Limbs emaciated by hunger.
Tramp upon, beat upon, softly.
Tread most softly.
Glistening bridges, water furtively stealing
Through treacherous nights.
This night is beyond night, it is morning,
It is beyond morning. It is night again.
I will laugh and dance
Over bridges curved in sunny air.
Bitter salt of the great ocean
I will walk, I will run
Spun into green-core earth.
Arrows pierce a woman's heart in still,
She spins, antique bird of velvet
In a carpeted night.
I looked for the world everywhere
But I did not find it.
Sleeping peacefully now,
Suspended beyond bridges,
In dusky glow.
In spite of this. I still believe that people are good.