From the Dome--war cont'd

Fanny an Mother two weeks prior to my birth in Schwaz., Austria

1945

The light plays dim on ashen face

to even click-clack of wheels on smooth worn rail

while beads of sweat slip down and mingle new

on cheeks with half-dried tears from hopeless waiting spent.

Hemmed in, her head begins to swim. Evacuees

send whispers down the line, “Ist hier ein Arzt?”

They stare with worried frowns; she hides her face.

From cramped and dirty spaces freed, one reaches out.

She protests, “Ich muss heim!” He shakes his head.

“Sie müessen ‘raus,” he says, and pulls her toward the door.

A hiss of brakes; a whine of steel on steel.

He firmly shoves her out to waiting Alpine town;

and long before the whistle’s parting wail,

She weeps to hear her newborn cry full throat.