Pride
I sat,
Watching her speak.
Listening to a story I’ve never heard.
The type I read about in those history books I held,
Unaware those history books were holding me.
Knock, knock,
On their door.
A search.
Findings.
A letter from Poland.
I don’t recall the details,
But, ink on a page,
An unaccepted address.
So they put her father in a cage.
That was the last she saw of him.
Knock, knock,
On their door.
“Your father was ill,
Your father died.”
Then I think of my father,
Full of that Russian pride.
That Russian pride,
That killed that man.
Great grandfather,
All for the Motherland.
War,
Based on the pureness of your blood.
And I sit in this house.
A war between floors.
Bloodshed from my fist,
Hole in the wall.
A mother in tears,
As her family falls apart.
A daughter, enraged,
Watching parents part.
A man,
Full of pain.
Missing his home.
Unwilling to...