
Imagine Our Town Being Bombed
[Remembering Dresden: February 13, 1945]
The planes would come in
from the west
at an angle, so as to run
up along the valley
to destroy our mills,
laying a carpet of bombs
half a mile wide
straight up across our town,
guiding on the Court House
then out beyond
to the hill
where the hospital stands
then further still
to our railroad yards
and the bridge across,
with twenty merciless runs,
and what still stood
would be ground
in drafts of fire—
Dresden
burnt into memory
murmuring:
Try to imagine.
And those who survived
would gather along the creek
where water soothed
or in our woods
under angels' wings
while one long dirge
of soft wailing
would be heard
for what had been.
Then one among them
would rise,
aged now and enlightened,
with that one word empowered:
Build.
And it would happen.
from: The Butler Pennsylvania Poems

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