I’ve heard their lies. I heard them all.
I read the names carved in the wall.
I saw the soldiers clear the hall
and sort the shoes by size.
I ate. I worked. The day was long.
I learned the nation’s favored song.
I signed my name. I moved along
and left you there in hunger
I went to find the name I sold.
I walked at night between the folds.
and there were phantoms on the road
who died in ash and wanting.
I traded bread, I looked for clues,
seeking victims I could use.
I stole a coat that you would choose
and wore it through the winter.
I spread the map across the ground,
the river bend where you were found.
I knelt beside your fallen gown.
I'd lost my only witness.
I'm taking back my broken life,
my spoon, my tin, my sacred night,
the hand I’ll need to gently write
my song of ash and wanting.
They haven’t found me. Never will.
Footsteps silent. Breath so still
to move through shadows, choose the hills.
A ledger line is there to fill
the name of one surviving.