To a Sick Child During the Siege

by Brett Rutherford

     Adapted from Victor Hugo, l'Annee Terrible, "November 1870"

TO A SICK CHILD, DURING THE SIEGE

If you continue to look pale like this
     in this bad air,
if I see you enter my doomed shadow,
     me, the old man, you, the child,
if I see the natural order is confused these days,
as on my knees
I contemplate you, wanting my death sooner,
yours many years away.
If your hands are still diaphanous and frail,
     if, in your cradle,
you seem to wait, trembling, for the growth of wings
like a little bird;
if in our sad soil your roots so far
have not sunk in;
if, to our bafflement, your discontented eyes
seem to wander, Jeanne,
and I fail to find you cheerful, rosy, and strong;
if, sad, you dream,
if you have left the door ajar in that heaven
that sent you to us;
if I don’t see you one day as a beautiful woman,
walk, and be well,
just laugh, and if you seem like a little soul
who does not want to stay,
I will believe that in this world where shrouds
for some are swaddling clothes,
you have come to depart again.
Perhaps you are the angel
responsible for taking me.