things are settling down

i watch the celebrations

quietly

i cannot join in

but my pain has dulled

till i come upon a stray picture

a trench full of little faces

round eyes, soft limbs

a frightened huddle of all that is precious

My little Maxs face

and hands

and baby smell

just born somewhere else

the anguish returns, sharp and quick

where are you now, little Maxs

what did you see

which internment camp is your playground

which grave is your bed

~ by chootiya on May 19, 2009.