Child, hold your doll, hold your teddy bear, hold your kitty.

The train moves like a long wounded snake. The cities are on fire.

The tea is in a canister. It has cooled off, but it is sweet.

The word desperation is longer than the word despair.

And where the earth burned, pity or forgiveness won’t grow,

On the branch of a dry tree burns mistletoe.

Child, they are waiting for us there. I don’t know who, but someone.

Bed, they prepare for us so that we can sleep in softness.

Child, we’ll cry there. But not here. Not yet.

Grief clenches the heart like a tourniquet.

You will see how everything will return. To our blossoming cities.

Child, hold your doll, hold your teddy bear, hold your kitty.