The Literary Magazine 2019 "Voice & Choice"

POEM
100 YEARS
ADA SZYSZKO
Born in newly independent Poland,
With what I thought was a bright
future ahead of me.
The colorful bricks and the russet
tiles of the Warsaw tenements
spanning miles in front of me,
The Sigismund’s Column on central
square, standing in all its glory.
The crowds, the white and red flags,
The colors, so vivid...
The shock, the horror, the surprise,
as I read the morning paper.
‘Poland under occupation’, ‘Third
Reich attacks Poland’,
Slogans, slogans, painful news before
my eyes.
A silent prayer at the dinner table,
God, give them the strength; Holy
Mother of God, grant them your
protection.
The rosary in my hand, so vivid...
The sparks of hope for an unoccupied
Poland, flickering in our young,
Polish hearts,
As we stashed our basements with
ammunition,
The hours, days, weeks, months,
The never-ending preparation,
And the indescribable anticipation of
the one, final sabotage.
The certainty, so vivid...
Five o’clock, the howl of the siren,
filling the Warsaw streets,
‘W’ Hour has come, the hour to fight,
to get back what is rightfully ours.
I grab my ammunition, helmet, gun,
Wrap the white-red string around my
helmet and step out onto the street.
Mother, father, oh glorious nation, I
will fight and bleed for your liberty.
The streets, so vivid...
All the racket, chaos, a world turned
upside down.
Planes buzzing above, filling us with
the anticipation - a hope,
For the aid that never comes.
The terror as your friend collapses
into your arms,
‘Make it worth it… will you?’ the final
request of a fighting soul.
The scarlet stains, so vivid...
Vorwärds! Vorwärds!, distant
screams,
The urge to fight pushing me forward
- one, two, three bullets whizzing by.
A sudden push, a sting, a stab, within
my chest.
I stop, I gape, I collapse down onto
the Warsaw street.
The now distant tramp of combat
boots echoing behind me,
The pain, so vivid…
Until the end.