To survive each day is a constant fight;
my mother searches for food in the night.
She walks for hours and sneaks into fields
to look for whatever the hard earth yields
and before dawn, returns with her treasure;
maybe one potato... just to assure
avoiding starvation for one more day,
daring the fine there could be to pay.
In our house now loud Russians are staying,
their "commandant" acting like a wild king.
Once, overwhelmed by the sweet smell of bread,
I beg for a piece... the soldier gets mad.
Dizzy from hunger pains, I jump enraged--
my cravings much too long had been caged--
and from his hand a small morsel I caught
and stuff it into my mouth-- without any thought.
Shocked, I suddenly realize my deed,
sure now that I have to pay for my greed;
but no more indifference he can pretend,
as he lays a whole loaf into my hand.
Share This Poem