mayawrites

Dear Tomorrow,

Oh, Tomorrow, I write to you less in gaiety.
The clock ticks.
“Tick tock, tick tock.”
Minutes pass like bullets
In this attic
Where I write.

War and peace play like infants,
Whining and staring.
With the end of war,
Comes the return of freedom.
Oh, Tomorrow, When will war end?

Are stories read line by line,
Or are they devoured paragraph by paragraph,
Impatient, ravenous beasts.
My words should live beyond me.
My pen’s ink should run out
Time and time again.
Oh, Tomorrow, Will I become a writer?

Men shoot and women slave,
Dark feathered birds,
Deemed superior,
Even when they have the same wings.
I AM HUNTED AND HATED
For my identity.
Oh, Tomorrow, are jews treated as humans?
Are people truly good at heart?

I’m angry at ghosts.
They took my place
At my desk.
They cross their legs and look at the board,
Learning and loving.
I wish too, to be a ghost.
Oh, Tomorrow, have I returned to school?
Do I grow up free?

While I work to be discovered
For the truth in my bones,
I fear to be discovered
By bearded men with shackles
And hunger in their eyes.
Oh, Tomorrow, Am I constrained?
Have I been discovered in the hands of our foe?

The world moves on,
Decade after decade,
Dinosaur to jet engine.
Every word has meaning—
I would know.
The outside world would forget our kind, in hiding.
Oh, Tomorrow, Am I too, forgotten?
Have I lived a life with no meaning?

If the war, not world, ends,
Kindness dwells in the heart of cruelty.
Flowers bloom from being trampled.
A girl in hiding
Goes from a girl set free,
But not a girl who’s special.
Oh, Tomorrow, maybe the war has ended.
But have my dreams come true?

Oh, Tomorrow, I ask of you,
In this theatre of absurd,
With low lights and wooden stools,
In this attic,
With only a checkered diary to keep me sane,
Tell me, Tomorrow,
I plead of you—
You are my closest friend,
Clung to me
Like a warm, soft hug.
Tell me, Tomorrow,
Why are people so cruel to one another?
Why must children suffer for the mistakes of adults?
Will I ever be able to live a normal life again?

Do my words,                                                                                                                                                                                                                           matter to anyone?

Yours faithfully,
Anne Frank