She Is Who She Was Being Who She Is

Something is on my mind.
Some things, are on…

I watched her weave an intricate stairway
in the place in front

of her face, her hands
nimbly stacking, reacting, tracking
the walkway, she wanted

quiet, yet the metallic whimsy shone
through her imagination,
silver slivers sliding down

wrought rails guarding staccato
moments. She is weaving passions;
her fingers gently flying, untying, plying

past notions, taught emotions, cornering
devotions of loved

ones, twos, threes, each time sent
away with a flick, like little fairy
bells tinkling under the

heavy tones of wind chimes
beat the air, scathing, lathing
the cut crystal path

way into the night, frosted clouds
only require one step,
two faiths, and three
minutes into

the journey, I realized

who she
was.

She was who?

They crossed over the border the hour before dawn
Moving in lines through the day
Most of our planes were destroyed on the ground where they lay
Waiting for orders we held in the wood – word from the front never came
By evening the sound of the gunfire was miles away

Ah, softly we move through the shadows, slip away through the trees
Crossing their lines in the mists in the fields on our hands and our knees
And all that I ever was able to see
The fire in the air glowing red silhouetting the smoke on the breeze

All summer they drove us back through the Ukraine
Smolensk and Viasma soon fell
By autumn we stood with our backs to the town of Orel
Closer and closer to Moscow they came – riding the wind like a bell
General Guderian stands at the crest of the hill

Winter brought with her the rains, oceans of mud filled the roads
Gluing the tracks of their tanks to the ground while the sky filled with snow
And all that I ever was able to see
The fire in the air glowing red silhouetting the snow on the breeze

In the footsteps of Napoleon the shadow figures stagger through the winter
Falling back before the gates of Moscow,
Standing in the wings like an avenger
And far away behind their lines the partisans are stirring in the forest
Coming unexpectedly upon their outposts, growing like a promise
You’ll never know, you’ll never know
Which way to turn, which way to look, you’ll never see us
As we’re stealing through the blackness of the night,
You’ll never know, you’ll never hear us
And the evening sings in a voice of amber, the dawn is surely coming
The morning roads leads to Stalingrad, and the sky is softly humming

Two broken Tigers on fire in the night flicker their souls to the wind
We wait in the lines for the final approach to begin
It’s been almost four years that I’ve carried a gun
At home it will almost be spring
The flames of the Tigers are lighting the road to Berlin

Ah, quickly we move through the ruins that bow to the ground
The old men and children they send out to face us, they can’t slow us down
And all that I ever was able to see
The eyes of the city are opening now it’s the end of the dream

I’m coming home, I’m coming home,
Now you can taste it in the wind, the war is over
And I listen to the clicking of the train wheels as we roll across the border
And now they ask me of the time
When I was caught behind their lines and taken prisoner
"They only held me for a day, a lucky break", I say;
They turn and listen closer
I’ll never know, I’ll never know
Why I was taken from the line and all the others
To board a special train and journey deep into the heart of holy Russia
And it’s cold and damp in the transit camp, and the air is still and sullen
And the pale sun of October whispers the snow will soon be coming
And I wonder when I’ll be home again and the morning answers "Never"
And the evening sighs and the steely Russian skies go on forever
ok, next time I will ask "Dude wheres my car?"
Al Stewart song