Suzanne Roszak There Are People Out There With Courage

The town had been stockpiling apples.

Apples in silos, apples in baskets,

under tables and in corners, apples

bursting out of children’s clothes. If

we didn’t have them, it would be

someone else who did.

In the street there was talk

of tumbling, a great series of falls. First

the lights of the school would darken,

then grocery doors would seal

themselves. Soon we would learn

the meaning of hermitage, or

worse. A tall fist clenching

above our heads.

It was easy to see the wolves

descending from the hills at night

to steal our young. There was bitterness

in the water; we melted bucketfuls

from snow. We said there are people

out there with courage. Knowing

and nameless, protection

we can taste.

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