pushed onward
leaving the girls and me with
water
and directions to a village.
Go that way,
the soldier said.
Away from the fighting.
You’ll be safe.
We walked
hand in hand
trying to ignore
the stares
the pointing
the distrust
in the villagers’ eyes.
Bronia knocked on a door.
Please—
The door
slammed shut.
A woman on the street
stared
eyes wide,
she asked,
pointing
at our yellow stars
faded
torn
dirty.
I thought all the Jews were gone.
Inside her home,
she had little,
but offered
warm broth,
water to drink,
and water to wash.
Her little girl
was drawing
on a pad of paper with colored pencils,
a strand of paper dolls, precisely cut.
Fania watched too.
Placed her hand
over her hearts
and smiled.