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