Poetry: Lost Questions

So many questions that I have failed to ask my grandparents.

“I regret that I never had the time…”

I wonder how it was
in Moscow after the war;
flags of nazis piling up,
sharing the Red Square
with an old soviet
leather treasure boot.

Yes, fireworks again,
remembrance of sacrifices made,
tribute to the fallen, mourning,
songs for one and only
general Vissarionovich.

But that is known to history,
passed down through the ages,
with your parents, documentaries
and images depicting burning villages.

That I know
but what I wish to know,
is how you felt on that wedding day,
aware of the
atrocities made against those similar to you,
not that far, just across the border,
right in Poland.

I regret that I never had the time
to grow up and to ask
about the days of your
wartime past, and I wish
I could recover those poems that you wrote,
but unfortunately, they probably are up in smoke.

Poetry by Vladimir Fischer