in honour of the colour
of his lips and nose.
His mother cried
as she gave birth
to him inside the chapel.
Gunfire from nearby
brought new anxiety,
and soon left
its own mean mark,
so pitiless and final.
She took him
to the frosty fields,
still bleeding from
the Russian bullet.
perhaps they could,
without the help
of God, who had
abandoned them,
get to the safety
of the forest.
Her breath was shallow,
dictates of pain,
when they were swallowed
by the blackness
and the whispers.
And then she prayed
inspite of all and asked
that there be more for them
than just a paper moon.