It happened at the scene of the crime.
in the human forest where the honor
of those massacred like wounds
would be healed.
Now rests the burden of tragedy over travesty.
lost over decades of time, thousands
met with an inexplicable, methodical madness.
voiceless hostages, humiliated, handcuffed
stood to meet brains red-washed
masking murder with their mighty machines
that thundered long into the blistered black night.
the merciless murderers prepared to brand
suffering dogs horses and cattle maddened by a disease.
my people were led to their graves
bullets pierced their necks.
oh Lord how their graves were ignored
while the lies overflowed in the streets.
for a time, a veil covered the dead
when a voice cried out from the earth
“The truth will make a path for itself”.
On this day, the crusty fog rested on the tombs
all the king’s men were beckoned to the field of green
where bloodshed had long been covered up
by the red lies
and yet on this day
there was to be an offering of honesty over
diminished lies, perhaps, but the pain remained
weighted by years of blame and lack of responsibility.
and as the Poles boarded a plane
remembering the brutal events in a war
that devastated a nation
hope burst into flames
as their heavy hearts crashed on the burial ground.
Pundits, bloggers and those who are left to celebrate
the painful anniversary
search for a silver lining.
Katyn is ignored no more.