Great Regulars: The natural world seems essential to those

who seek to survive genocide or the cruelties of war. I often recall Akhmatova's poem about her neighbor, a small boy in Leningrad, who begged for bread:

Bring me a twig from the maple tree,
Or just some blades of green grass
As you did last spring.
Bring me in your tiny cupped hand
Some clear, cool water from our Neva,
And with my own hands I'll wipe clean
The blood from your little golden head.

It's almost as if physical nature is able to compete with the heartlessness of human nature. It can provide a solace that signals a way out of the worst of times.

But survivors also need to remember--vividly, in concrete detail--what happened to them.

from Jay Parini: Chronicle of Higher Education: A Witness to Genocide

~~~~~~~~~~~