Old man, guarding a pile of rubble
And calling to us to help you search for your wife,
I can barely remember your face
After more than sixty years.
You, too, horse hitched to a wagon
Someone had abandoned,
We stroked your mane
While you kept your weary head bowed.
And you, one-legged soldier
Who swung yourself on crutches after me,
I was terrified of you,
Couldn’t understand a word you said till today,
Seeing a young man in a wheelchair
Pushed by his mother
Who kept her eyes averted
So she wouldn’t see what the war did to him.