child bride

you were just a month into your seventeenth year

when this photo was taken

you were scowling 

though you made the excuse that the sun

was in your eyes

but i knew better

because just like me 

you weren’t good at keeping a poker face

and just like me your face was a beacon

broadcasting your many moods and emotions

you never would have foreseen this future

just like you would have never foreseen 

two years earlier 

when german soldiers came 

banging on the doors

shouting 

the russians are coming

the russians are coming

you would have never foreseen 

the mad scramble to gather up your 

cherished treasures 

treasures you could not leave behind

like that old coin that your father gave you

when you got good grades

and your notebook of handwritten prayers

that you kept carefully hidden from soviet eyes

you would have never foreseen 

that this would be the last time 

you would look upon the four walls 

of the room you shared with your sister

or the house where holidays were celebrated

and memories were made

you would have never foreseen

that this would be the last time 

you would see your homeland 

if you had known all this would be gone

perhaps you would have taken 

a much harder look 

so that you could lock up all that you saw

in the tight vaults of your memory 

you would have taken that one last look 

at the yellow and red tulips painted

on the window shutters 

at your little sister’s school books 

and the homework assignment 

you helped her finish

at the rue growing in the garden

at the woven sashes worn during festivals

you would have given

the cat who just had her kittens

some extra milk in her dish 

or the puppy one last kiss on the forehead 

but instead you were running around

trying to stuff what you could 

in a sack used for carrying potatoes 

while your mother opened the barn door

to let the cow roam free

knowing that the nazis 

would catch her

and slaughter her

but until then

the cow would roam 

enjoying her last few hours of freedom 

unlike you 

unlike your family

unlike your  fellow townsfolk 

you were all put on cattle cars

except for your parish priest 

who was kept behind

to be tortured to death 

by having his skin peeled off

by the nazis

and there you were on cattle cars

being shipped off to germany 

the night was bitter cold

you remembered waking up to your face frozen 

to the side of the cattle car

you  were put to work

along with the rest

on the railroads

food was scarce

one time you were given horse meat 

and that was considered a treat 

you always knew when the jews 

were being sent to the ovens

their screams long since extinguished 

by the time the wind borne smell 

of burnt charred flesh

reached your nostrils 

no

you would have never imagined 

such a future 

for yourself

or for anyone 

and here you were two years later

a child bride on your wedding day

your innocence sold to a much older man

for extra sugar rations

or for whatever other reasons 

your father may have had

reasons that are now in the grave

where they rest along with the holders 

of those secrets and many more other secrets

that will decay  

in quiet repose 

in darkness

in the earth’s moldering bosom

gone were your hopes and dreams 

and here you were 

in a borrowed wedding dress 

a child bride soon to become a junge frau

a young wife who will 

never know what it would be like

to dance with boys

or to exchange shy glances 

or to float a flower wreath in the river

or look for fern blossoms in the forest

at night on st john’s eve 

with that special boy

or to wash your face with the early morning

midsummer dew

all that was lost

all because of the fifth commandment 

the one that you would quote to me often 

when i disobeyed 

honor thy father and mother

but tell me

mother

had you known what the future held

had you known what was in store

for the next four decades

would you have still obeyed your father

and allowed your innocence to be sold

would i have even been born

would I have been around to write this