Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Silence of the Crowds

                                 
                                     The most remarkable thing
about this house is
the somber silence,
the quiet always maintained,
always observed
no matter how large
the crowd inside.

She read “A Tale of Two Cities”
that first day, a story of men
seized with madness,
determined to destroy.

What did she read
on her last day here? Or
what did she live
on her last day here?

The silence of crowds
replicates the silence
of the eight who lived here
                                     for a time, lives
                                     constricted and contained
                                     within old storerooms
                                     full of hope and dust.

This poem is submitted for One Shot Wednesday hosted by One Stop Poetry. The links will be live at 4 p.m. Central time today.

Photograph: Anne Frank House by Essential Architecture.
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16 comments:

  1. UnknownFebruary 22, 2011 at 1:25 PM

    Excellent Glynn.......

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  2. LauraFebruary 22, 2011 at 2:33 PM

    Beautiful Glynn...just beautiful.

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  3. AnonymousFebruary 22, 2011 at 4:10 PM

    What memories lie ingrained within the walls? What secret lifetimes lie forever lost therein? Hope and dust...so many like that child lay wrapped in such, for so long, condemned to hide within books and attics...a pity of a thing, a *horror* of thing, but your words encapsulated it all, and beautifully so.

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  4. DulceFebruary 22, 2011 at 4:19 PM

    there they remain for sure

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  5. MaureenFebruary 22, 2011 at 4:40 PM

    I think I've read every book/memoir-related piece about Anne Frank, and several editions of her diary. May she never be forgotten.

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  6. Brian MillerFebruary 22, 2011 at 4:41 PM

    lovely write...i imagine there are many stories that once filled those walls...

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  7. AnonymousFebruary 22, 2011 at 5:24 PM

    still walking
    through
    hope and dust
    in the silence
    one can imagine

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  8. AnonymousFebruary 22, 2011 at 5:27 PM

    Excellent write Glynn, all old houses have a story, mine is haunted I'm sure of it. Beautiful lines here my friend x

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  9. Steven Marty GrantFebruary 22, 2011 at 5:37 PM

    Excellent piece Glynn, and having seen the house in person I can tell that you have captured the essence of the place very well.

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  10. hedgewitchFebruary 22, 2011 at 7:04 PM

    A poem with echoes in its walls. I first read her diary when I was about her age and I will never ever forget it. Nor should the world forget, and obviously you haven't, what a universal human document it is.

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  11. S. EtoleFebruary 22, 2011 at 8:06 PM

    powerfully moving ...

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  12. Shashidhar SharmaFebruary 23, 2011 at 12:45 AM

    Hi Glynn

    A beautiful tribute... and perfect imagery.. I could almost touch the silence..

    ॐ नमः शिवाय
    Om Namah Shivaya
    http://shadowdancingwithmind.blogspot.com/2011/02/whispers-tanka-and-search-for-being.html
    Connect with me at Twitter @VerseEveryDay

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  13. HisFireFlyFebruary 23, 2011 at 9:13 AM

    Grat capture of time, place, feeling.

    You've done it agian Glynn!

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  14. JhpoetryFebruary 23, 2011 at 5:33 PM

    a very descriptive piece. great one!

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  15. JerryFebruary 23, 2011 at 8:48 PM

    Wow, Glynn, have you ever been there? This is good.

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  16. BeachannyFebruary 24, 2011 at 11:14 AM

    I read your poem before I looked at the photo. I remembered an empty house across the street from my grandparents. The man, a widower had died and my cousins thought it would be mysterious and on a dare two of us opened a window and went in. Your poem echoes the feelings I had there. Looking at the lives of two dead people yet their life dusted over was on display for two pre-teen girls. Extrapolating that with Anne Frank's life is a chilling and disturbing enjambment. These were old people, she so full of life. Excellent write, my friend.
    Gay

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