Refugees' Reunion

From certain death we,
teen aged refugees, escaped,
fearing our horrid destiny,
from racist Nazi Germany,
many on Kinder transports,
with parents left behind,
we came to the golden
land America, crossing
the ocean to be free,
and there in a camp high up
in the Ramapoo Mountains
found wild nature at its very best,
a dream land where with
youthful energy and zest,
we, unrestricted, found
first love, passion, sex
and the liberty yearned for
with all of us feeling sure
we finally landed in heaven.

More than half a century later
we had a reunion at a Y in Queens
when an old lady with a cane
looked somehow familiar to me.
"Is your name Edith", I asked.
"You're not Fred, oh my god",
she replied, seeming crestfallen,
Edith, my first love, my nights
of passion on the old abandoned farm
where the wild flowers grow near
the old camp where I spent
the best years of my life, sometimes
still nostalgic for those glorious
days and romantic nights,
and now all of us old,
tired - looking, pathetic;
we shook hands, politely,
but we never met again...

Alfred Charasz
Copyright 2009 Alfred Charasz