Poetry about Anne Frank

Prinsengracht 263

What will our widened eyes see

At Prinsengracht 263

Will they skim past

Careful memories left

Or will they notice 

Every detail of the weft

In the building’s painful tale

Told by the beams that hold it now

Will the floorboards whisper to me

The words of a young girl

When I pass behind the bookcase

Will my senses whirl

Weaving an eternity

Of lives lost, faces staring back at me

Or will I hear the beat

Of a child’s curious heart

And suddenly know what it’s like

For dreams to come apart


A Voice from the Other Side

A forbidden exchange late one night,
Taken at great risk

A voice whispers
Not knowing if anyone would respond

Were she to be caught,
Certain punishment would fall

And yet, a voice answered
Unseen person through barbed wire and straw

An impassable barrier
Through which voices could carry

Where is my friend?
I heard she is here...

Minutes pass, an eternity of hope ~
Another voice quietly speaks

And through the squalor and pain
A reunion with no touch or sight

Only a voice...
And then she was gone.


What Will You Do With Your Heart Today (Annelies Marie)

She skipped home from school that day,
Not a care in the world,
Except that boy who’d caught her eye there, 

She liked to dance with the other kids,
Run in the yard, laugh out loud,
Sunlight catching in her hair...

She loved the fresh air and the dancing leaves
And tales of far away lands, 
Of ships and sailors and shifting sands,

She knew laughter and song
Friendship, and walking quietly along,
She knew the butterfly’s wing was strong;

And on that fateful day, she had to hide away
Because the world suddenly wasn’t safe
For her to be an innocent child at play

Don’t breathe, no light, don’t speak,
Stay out of sight
No friends can visit now ~

Somehow she still found a way
To express herself each day,
And from a tiny little nook, she wrote a mighty, thoughtful book.

Overnight, her world was torn apart;
She became a woman, wise and caring, 
Gentle and funny, real, and smart

She had a lovely, giving heart;
Even though hidden, it still grew large ~
She understood much more than we ourselves could ever impart.

Her heartfelt words, thoughts and deeds,
Penned in a dusty, simple corner
Speak volumes, yet not of her own needs,

You see, she wrote what we all know
But are afraid to say;
We’re all the same, and we can’t be perfect, every day.

To think it could have been you, or me,
Our childhood stopped,
A painful end, for no earthly good, 

She endured it, she withstood,
The hate no world should ever see,
She paid an awful price...But we... 

...We are lucky to be free