by Dorothea Barth ©2020
"Speak" they snarled
"Why don't the rest of you SAY something?"
Echoes of accusation
Class of '68
Two visionary lights extinguished
By crazed men bearing guns
Open Forum time at Pasadena High
Share the horror and the pain
I'm the youngest senior swept along
I skipped some grades
(Father made me do it)
Violin strapped to my back
New to sunshine and to mountains
Missing my midland school
More inclusive and more subtle
(And offered lunchtime nutrition)
"Speak," they snarled
"Don't the rest of you FEEL anything?"
I gaze on, engulfed in my own horror
My voice is mute
The speakers speak on
Drama and debate team
Anointed ones returning to their
Arcadia and San Marino homes at night
Where parents greet them over
Well-set dinner table
How was school today?
How are you feeling?
Whose mother planned each prom
Who will spend junior year abroad
Take some time to find herself
Then return to mansion of her father
Who will walk her down the aisle
Beaming with pride
His little girl, a blushing bride
Yet once so daring in debate.
My orphaned father, of the sixth-grade
education, the six languages,
and the six children
Knew no such pleasant manners
Who stood up to the nazis
Knocked from his Dutch bike
Riding in face of nazi parade
Shouting "I'm not afraid of you"!
Forced labor in enemy land
Tried to escape by train
Found himself in nazi prison
Till war's end
Found my mom to save him
But woeful life had done its thing
Battered orphan linguist poet
Navigating life as Our Father
Spreading fear at home
While earning medals
In his decimated homeland
For oft donating his blood
Rendering diversity in his offspring
Some silent and studious
Some rebelling through religion
Some cultivating a combative crust
I the oldest daughter
(But youngest senior)
At Open Forum today
Am tongue-tied
"Speak," they snarl
"Why don't the rest of you SAY something?"
Echoes of accusation
2020 election
I'm poised to vote
No meme or exhortation
needs elucidate what's a crime,
What is moral, what is good
