If the Rain in Warsaw Sounds Like This

If the Rain in Warsaw Sounds Like This  

From a secret they shaped  

A room in London—  

A breath of space  

Lit by a single candle’s hush.  

Out there the war was cold,  

Close to freezing.  

But they were warm within.  

Stillness gathered.  

They listened to icy rain  

Softly striking stone—  

Each drop a touch,  

A covert word  

Only they understood.  

It was a fragile pact:  

Two selves from opposing worlds,  

Folded into one,  

Briefly, tenderly.  

Then a man from Poland found us— 

Jealous spy’s eyes  

And a blade to my chest.  

He cupped her mouth  

And took her away, 

Through the curtain  

Over the border. 

And every spark we kindled  

Returned to its solitary flame.  

My strength is too faint  

To lead me out.  

So in this room,  

I remain—  

Still listening  

To the rain on stone,  

Wondering  

If the rain in Warsaw  

Sounds like this.