Poplars At Auschwitz Poem by Janet Sillett

Poplars
Memories of a Europe new to me then as a child
Other

Do we have poplars here?
Not like these tall elegant spears

In France
Breaking the sun into shafts of bright light
Dark shadows on dusty avenues
Hot in the spaces between the trees
As we walked too far to a villa
Then relief, lemonade
A child's grumbles forgotten instantly

Today we see the poplars emerge as the mist fades
Just before there seems only grey space with nothing at all in view
In transit to nowhere

Polish monotone films that never broke out of the greyness of flat landscapes
Yet there are hills here and green trees
Post war Poland in black and white because colour would betray the past

And now suddenly arrival, an intake of breadth
The trees in some parody of an avenue in a European town
Swaying a little in a touch of wind

Silence before the chaos of visitors not knowing where to go
Jettisoning bags that aren't allowed
Practicing in my head how to respond to images well known but not quite real

Leaving, there is a sharp crescent moon
Picking out the newly built homes between Auschwitz and Birkenau
And accenting the tops of infinite poplars with yellow light