Eyes of Clear Skies

Up the steps in the compartment,
all seven of us, the youngest one on her lap
broken in sleep...It’s moving. Off we go.
Who knows where--? An adventure--?
Nice, Cannes, Toulon, Marseille, Beziers,
they all fly by until the slow down, the stop,
the change of direction.
The lulling ride and stop turns into alarm.
Surrounded by obedient clones,
bayonets pointing,
the train, emptied of its human cargo,
is requisitioned on the spot for the conquerors.
Waiting in the morning chill,
scared children watch for clues.
She has bartered a concession, my Mother,
but not her country’s pride.
She can board to her next stop.
There’ll be surveillance, search,
speech will be monitored.
Officers are assigned to guard the innocent.
Breathe shallow, breathe deep, it’s rolling again.
Relief and fear mingle under the intense watch.
Time passes. The guarding officers initiate a
hesitant conversation, the children all ears.
Pictures of loved ones exit from their wallets,
trips to Paris described.
Then questions reluctantly posed: what would
happen if you resisted?
How they do love France, its culture, its language!
The educated ones are greedier,
the prize more golden.
They know what’s at stake.
Then a fateful question:
"Do you like Germans, Madame?"
"Non" she dares to answer, my Mother.
Is he going to faint? He’s so white!
He rises, goes out the door,
the only witness to her rebellion.
The other officer had gone out before
to smoke. That cigarette may have saved us!
He returns. ...still white--
Can the inevitable happen?
She offers him a rum-drenched sugar cube...
He accepts.... the episode is closed.
End of conversation...