Treasure Island

Brian Wake

(Liverpool)

INTO HIDING


Hiding from me at bedtime, my daughter
sneezes and giggles from inside the wardrobe.
I wonder where she is, I act. Pretending
not to see her four small fingers clutching
the door but, fearing the dark far more
than she does me, she surrenders. I gasp
in mock surprise. Soon she will be sleeping.

In Germany once
whole families hid in cupboards
while friends pretended not to see.
But, seventy years on, most would say
forget, forgive, let ancient horrors be.

Me? I am reminded tonight of the mother
who, on hearing footsteps on the stairs,
hurried her children into hiding; four hearts
thumping in a wardrobe.

Like mine, perhaps her daughter
would have giggled had she sneezed.
Sneezed and giggled, giggled and sneezed,
sneezed away four lives.

I smothered her so the others might survive.
It was Thursday, the ninth, in nineteen thirty
Nine. November, she says, I remember, thinking
even then how all her little movements
were as earthquakes when matched against
the stillnesses to come.

Submitted: Saturday, June 08, 2013
Edited: Thursday, August 01, 2013

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

What do you think this poem is about?



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (INTO HIDING by Brian Wake )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Rainbow Looms, Edward Kofi Louis
  2. Ngiyindodana yakwa Zulu, senzokhaya umhayi
  3. Uyakhumbula, senzokhaya umhayi
  4. Wedwa, senzokhaya umhayi
  5. time or space?, ko the skipper
  6. The Truth Are From The Laws, Edward Kofi Louis
  7. The Sadness Of This World, Edward Kofi Louis
  8. I Could Be Out In The Rain, Vigna Mukund
  9. Equations: Friend Or Enemy, Guess Who
  10. Waiting for Dawn, Somanathan Iyer

Poem of the Day

poet James Whitcomb Riley

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock
And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey cock
And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the hens
...... Read complete »

 

Modern Poem

poet Claude McKay

 
[Hata Bildir]