It was the time to say goodbye.
My Grandfather weak and frail
held me tight. “When you survive
tell the truth. Don’t make them villains”.

At night alone, hungry they are villains.
I eye at a child’s fist of bread to survive
and die…later. Longing and fearing goodbye
as welcome cold comes. “Will I be frail”?

Now old and even my children frail.
I want them to know joy at my goodbye
so I burn memories. They have me, not villains
to remember. “Its love that will survive”.

My body did survive but the soul was frail
until villains faded and I could say goodbye