| It goes on burning in the bones, in the brain, years after, smoke still rising behind the walls, even on May second, a birthday to liberate all others. In Poland, though the stone well-water near Tylicz never ceases, it never soothes the smoldering, nor the fearful dreams fueling sleep.
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| For months a redwood tree can flame the fire that consumes it, burning a black scar to its core. Within the burnt sepulchre, as if a miracle, seeds bearing a young tree begin to green. Let us sift the ashes for new life, for the story forged in suffering; where the birth into language is as terrifying as fire or love. A NNETTE A LLEN The Story (for Rena)
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