Prague  Winter

A silent call to freedom

Fills the city, like the snow

Which lifts and swirls around us

As we walk its quiet streets.

Mute memorials, unremarked

By tourists, draw

My mind -

Jan Hus, pencil thin

And gaunt above

A mound of terror;

Jan Palach's cross

So small it almost vanishes

Within the bushes on the

Central reservation

Atop Wenceslaus Square.

And in between, a calm

Acceptance that

Whenever history tries to burn us out

Bohemians know that Love and Truth must shout.

Brian Hick 8.1.09

©copyright S Hick 2022