Anna Wiersma



No letter commits itself to paper;
still, one thing won’t get
out of my head:
“Seventy times two minutes
ain’t that long…”
Not here, not now, that’s true-
but when you feare
the firing squad,
knowing that only minutes
of your breath are left,
your flame nears, its extinction
what does time mean?

So, year after year, letters commit
themselves to paper: they proclaim
a story to pass on-
that peace is not for free
is paid for
those who fell behind.

© Anna Wiersma, 4-5-2015, stadsdichter Zutphen 2015-
(Englisch version by Pieter Bas Kempe)