By: James Aitchison

There it is in Krakow, Poland,
so innocuous, just another building,
2 Pomorska Street,
a hostel for students from Silesia
until —

13 September 1939,
the Gestapo moved in,
and a conquered city
feared the name “Pomorska”.

I found out why —

down a quiet flight of steps,
away from the street,
to the basement,

where the horrors of Nazism
and Stalin’s reign of terror
come alive once more.

Brave Polish men and women
were bundled down these same stairs
where now I walk, a free man,
unafraid —

until I reach the cells —

here, prisoners left their last words,
scratched onto the walls,
still there,
still there.

I don’t need to read Polish
to know what
O Jezu Chryste litości
means.

I pray that he,
or she,
found compassion
in the next and better life.