The lace that I wore at my ankle is lost.
Rose petals froze into gold… with the frost
At our fingers, our toes, our words, and my smile,
And the black-footed hedgehog tells me I’m a child.
I turned my face quietly up toward the sky,
With no urge to crumble. No need to ask why.
Though unimpeded, though un accused,
A stranger from nowhere believes I’m confused
Like a bear-bellied walrus with rockets for shoes.
Be I the sunshine, be I the stars,
As they believe, see not the scars.
Pray, smile, and leave. Pretend to be strong.
They shall believe. They shan’t be wrong.
This is the land. The city. The light.
Where the strange and the placeless escape for the night.
The lonely, the strong, out sprung from the herds;
To live by occasional glances or words.
The love of a moment brings life, breathes relief,
And the touch of a hand can half drown a belief.
Yet the fire fades quickly, as love from a sigh.
You dare not hold on as the moment flies by.
For the flame that once warmed you can struggle and burn.
People pass softly. Find no need to yearn.
The senseless grow longings to run far away,
And the stones ‘neath our feet remind us to stay,
While a dreamy-lifed poet forgets how to pray.
I am living, and watching… hoping, or half…
For the first time in years I can let go and laugh;
Shatter my tears and dance on my toes,
With ice on my lashes. There are no woes
In Prague. And the half-dream goes on.
Life as a wandering face in a song.
You are one. You need none. God bless the throng.
Written by Anna Williams at age 17
in Prague, Czechoslovakia