The Door

Image result for anne frank

Courtesy: Google Image

 

A movable book-case

served as a door

to the Secret Annex

where hid two families

The Frank and the Van Pels,

for sometimes in the 1940’s.

It was like a womb

gestating history

to be born

long after they were gone.

Love of words 

sustained an angel.

Teenager she was.

Those words were a dove

that found a sky

on the pages of her diary.

 

I know how

Its wings were chopped off.

 

Woe unto the womb

that birthed and birth humans

with choppers

as hands.

 

Yet the dove

is still alive,

throbbing with life,

ever opening a door

into that amazing life

and a toxic time.

 

 

 

 

Posted for my Midweek Motif ~ The Door @ Poets United

 

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16 thoughts on “The Door

  1. A toxic time then and a toxic time now. Love of words and writing do sustain us.We are blessed. We think it is easy because it is so natural to us. Most cannot achieve it. The dove will not die. Somehow it will find its way. We must have faith. You have written a beautiful poem Sumana.

  2. Those words were a dove
    that found a sky
    on the pages of her diary.

    That’s such a gorgeous image, Sumana ❤️ Beautifully penned.

  3. Bravo! Maybe the best poem ever about the legacy that Anne left us! The door here suddenly seems like a pivot as well as multiple time machines into the innocent wisdom of a child too soon old, way too soon dead.

  4. What a stunningly beautiful poem about Anne Frank you have written Sumana. I lived in those toxic times in England close to London but didn’t know until after the war how bad it had been for millions of others across the channel.

  5. It was very moving experience to walk through that moveable bookcase into the Secret Annex in Amsterdam several years ago. Thank you for your moving poem.

  6. Such a brave and beautiful poem,Sumana.
    Yet the dove
    is still alive,
    throbbing with life,
    ever opening a door
    into that amazing life
    and a toxic time.
    I loved this line the most. 🙂

  7. We are all born with wings, some of us have them chopped off at a young age, others have them ripped off, others have them broken. Blessed and lucky are those who can guard them and preserve them into adulthood…
    A lovely write, Sumana!

Thank You :)

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