Stephan Collishaw

Yael was torn by the irony that with the spring, with this resurrection of the earth, war once more became possible; death could continue its rampage across the continent.

Is it possible, she thought, that here, in the middle of war, as on all sides carnage and murder stalk the world, is it possible that there can exist this pocket of peace?

“Beside your love / I have / no ocean… Beside your love / I have / no sun.”

The stork brings spring upon its tail, the saying goes

The stork cannot sing, her father had told her once, in fact they are more or less mute.

He would be awake, Yael thought. She imagined him waking alone in his bed and rising and wondering where she was. The pain in her heart was so intense she thought it would break. She hungered for him. For the small meaningless rituals that made up their days.

“Besides your love / I have no ocean… Besides your love / I have no sun, / but I don’t even know where you are or with whom.”

Her heart wrenched. “Oh God!” she murmured. The pain felt crushing. The desire to run across the path and fall into her mother’s arms. To hear her father’s quiet voice. To see Josef. To know their home once more.

She noticed the shoes, good shoes, leather brogues with fine stitching. Her father’s shoes she was sure. The trousers too.

They had almost