I listen to my grandmother

tell of loss and despair

in a foreign language.

I do not understand her

but carefully follow the

movement of her pale, trembling

lips.

Her eyes fill with tears

and her voice is shuttered as horror

fills her face and her body

becomes stiff.

Her expressions turn blank,

like a fresh piece of paper.

She becomes quiet as if

she is reliving the horrible moment.

My mouth is pasted with dryness,

my eyes are still searching

her mouth

for an answer

which is not there.

My body becomes tense and rigid

as she releases a breath

and brings one of her hands

to her face

to wipe away the tears.

But only some of the tears disappear.

The rest remain ...

because we must remember.

I listen to my grandmother

tell of loss and despair

in a foreign language.