There was snow upon the ground,
snow held frozen in the clouds.
Ice was in the air
that prowled beside the prison walls.
The line was long that day.
It was often long
and many of the faces there
had come every day hoping for news or sight
of a beloved one who had disappeared
behind the terrible prison gates.
The winter without
the winter within
stole the words of day,
held silent the vigil
kept beside the prison walls.
Anna was there that day
not as invited guest, honored poet,
only as petitioner
another mother come seeking her son.
As Anna came to stand at the end of the line,
the woman before her turned to look at her
with eyes deep set with pain.
Recognizing the poet, the woman asked,
“Do you have the words for this?”
Anna replied, “I have.”
The woman bowed her head.
Thus consoled, she faced forward once again
to wait the silence out
until Anna, with a poet’s voice
could give her the words
to free the darkness from her soul.
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