Justice-4-Poland.com
Connecting true geography and detailed unfolding of wide variety of crimes perpetrated by German/Ukrainian Nazis and jewish bolsheviks of Soviet Union on the Polish nation.
Deported to Siberia
I had a great response to a poem I wrote I so decided I will share more poems and compile the ones I have into a book with certain historical articles.
If there’s something that was especially meaningful that I’ve posted and you’d like it included in the book please comment.
So below is another poem
This one is dedicated to the Polish men, women, and children who were torn from their homeland and deported into Siberia by the Soviets and their local collaborators, a tragedy that history has all but forgotten.
Roughly 1.7 million Poles were sent into the freezing wilderness.
Only one-third survived – and yet, even today, the gravity of their suffering remains largely unacknowledged, their voices unheard.
To endure such horror and be met with silence is a second wound.
It is a trauma not only of the body, but of memory.
The Snow Remembers
For the exiled Poles of Siberia –
They came in silence,
not as soldiers, not as threats,
but as children clinging to mothers,
priests with trembling hands,
teachers who once read poetry,
now burdened with crusts of bread and fading prayers.
No verdict, no trial,
just midnight knocks,
bootsteps in stairwells,
names torn from bedsheets.
Their crime was birth,
in the wrong country,
at the wrong time,
with love for the wrong flag.
Siberia did not welcome them,
it swallowed them whole,
a land too vast to hold a grave,
too cold to remember names.
The wind carried their breath
like a hymn never finished,
scattered across endless white.
They dug into frozen earth
with bare hands and rusted shovels,
built shivering shelters from groaning trees. Children lost teeth to hunger, fingers to frost. Mothers lost names to madness, and still, somehow, they sang.
Not loud, not in defiance,
but in lullabies through frostbitten lips,
in psalms scratched on bark,
in the creak of bunk boards at night.
Hope was stitched into sleeves,
hidden in poems no one would read.
And when spring never came,
when letters stopped,
and the world looked away,
the snow remembered.
It remembers still,
in every storm,
in the silence between branches,
in white fields where broken crosses lean, there echoes the breath of Poland,
carried by those who were never meant to return.
But they are not gone,
they are not forgotten.
They are always with us,
but you must know how to look.
They are the frost on the birch tree,
the hush before dawn,
the soul that refused to vanish,
even when the world
refused to see.
(https://www.facebook.com/photo/?fbid=682367950972478&set=a.159252953283983)
EDWARD REID on Facebook
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ENOUGH LIES
–
DOSYĆ KŁAMSTW
Walczmy z przejawami antypolonizmu
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