Anne Frank Huis
Even now, after twice her lifetime of grief
And anger in the very place, whoever comes
To climb these narrow stairs, discovers how
The bookcase slides aside, then walks through
Shadow into sunlit rooms, can never help
But break her secrecy again just listening
Is a kind of guilt: the Westerkirk repeats
Itself outside, as if all time worked round
Towards her fear, and made each stroke
Die down on guarded streets imagine it
Three years of whispering and loneliness
And plotting, day by day, the Allied line
In Europe with a yellow chalk what hope
She had for ordinary love and interest
Survives her here, displayed about the bed
As pictures of her family; some actors,
Fashions chosen by princess Elizabeth
And those who stoop to see them find
Not only patience missing its reward
But one enduring for chances
Like my own; to eave as simply
As I do, walk at ease
Up dusty tree-lined avenues, or watch
A silent barge come clear of bridges
Settling their reflections in the blue canal.
Andrew Motion
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