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By coujeaux Date: 2003 Apr 16 Comment on this Work [[2003.04.16.22.17.3884]] |
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Salvage the last dying chance, onward ho, for death awaited where they remained, Fifty souls offered no guarantee save for they were not where tyranny had reigned. Over yon Pyrenees is salvation in Spain, they were told; Nazis own the Frenchland, If you wish to escape the scythe of the swastika your salvation is within your hand. To stop invites your end, no matter what you must always move forward without fail, With luck and God upon your passage perhaps over the mountains you will prevail. And so they traveled through the snow, ice and night; unforgiving were their ways, Man, woman and an infant, all walks of life, all sorts of faith, struggle through days. Europa cared not for their plight; wintry breath tore through their rags to the bone, Only thing they craved more than shelter was a life they could finally call their own. Again and again came the elements without regard, yet still they stormed on ahead, Even as no visibility and loss of sensation in the extremities caused senses of dread. A fortnight came and went just like that; but this seemed to have no possible cheer, All hope was abandoned by those on the other side; lo, than did the first one appear. As another and another; frozen, hungry, ragged, yet miraculously each one arrived, Between the embraces and disbelief was posed the question how they had survived. Testimony; 'twas said when the eldest of them would lag, they were given this task, For they were the ones who would have to carry the child; no more would they ask. |