Hallowed knocks on doors and stairs can forecast Earth’s despair.

Truth one day, but not the next; ashes to ashes, from this world, to the next.

Cobble stoned, the roads of Warsaw’s Ghetto, over 500,000 Polish Jews were barricaded by Nazi Germany’s heavily armed metals.

Boots of black were laced in the cold of morning. Spit and polished, the Gestapo paraded with Hitler’s propaganda scorning.

Laboring hearts for the malice of a Jewish race cultivated a war’s horrors for an entire human race.

One must learn to live with dignity in days of hate. Jewish families wore stars on their sleeves, beating hearts of fate.

Mud stuck to their children’s tiny shoes; children’s voices rising, “What in the world did we ever do?”

The leaves did fall, and then the winter. Inside Warsaw’s frozen walls, the fervor of Hell’s splendor.

Against the wind, the blackest of birds did fly. The sky broke into fractured grey monuments. Even the angels cried.

Understanding, it claimed very few. This was the legacy of hating the Jews.

Living with dignity in the swells of shifting lands, Irena Sendler found freedom in what she could bear to understand.

Bearing no remorse for what she had to do, this Polish woman found a way to make 1,500 poor Jewish children’s dreams come true.

In the light of day, in the darkest of times, Irena found sight where hate was blind.

Starving children at the breasts of Mother Earth; a social worker, Warsaw Ghetto’s angel of mercy, Irena Sendler, knew a heart’s worth.

The phonograph record spun as the world stood still. Classical music plays in war torn hearts, a Spirit that hate could never kill.

One must exercise their own free will to find happiness. As paint peels back the layers of life, faith is formed from emptiness.

Empty jars in the dim light of a social worker’s vision became the seeds of a horrific world’s provision.

In a neighboring yard, where a winter tree did grow, Irena placed the names of 1,500 Jewish children in a glass jar, near the Warsaw tree’s tender roots, where a family’s heritage could sow.

One cannot inoculate their children from the terrors of war. Love will be the seeds that sow our evermore.

Into ambulances, coffins, wooden crates, storage bins, and a court house’s passage of light; Irena Sendler found a way to give meaning to flight.

Cold as morning, her body woke each day. Irena learned to understand that love is what you are willing to give away.

One must risk everything to have something. Nothing is what the families of Warsaw’s Ghetto had, but everything is what they gave. 1,500 Jewish mothers gave their child to 1,500 Christian mothers. There was no rhyme, but surely there was a reason.

Children tucked soundly in their beds, prayers comfort all children, the living and the dead.

We must all take one moment to breathe. Through man holes and road blocks love is conceived.

See your breath, do not see extinction. Dubious the world, love is God’s distinction.

The shadows under our eyes are but the peril of living. We are bread to break for each other, in our forgiving.

"No longer slaves, we are set free." (1) At each other’s tables, keep love’s company.

“An opinion is not a suggestion”, spoke the Jewish mother of death’s toll. In her winter scarf and hat, she gave her heart and soul.

Loud speakers blaring, “Move or be shot!”; deportation for most Jews and their love that could never be bought.

Convents and circular music, brave the compassion of the strong; into the arms of mercy, is where tomorrow belongs.

We could never promise more than our love could bring. Into the grey of mourning, hear the countless children sing.

Love is so big and strong, it can never go away. Under a winter tree in Warsaw, Poland, Irene Sendler left 1,500 Jewish family’s stories, in glass jars, waiting to find the light of a new day.

Irena Sendler’s father was a doctor. He healed many Jews. Like her father, she risked her life making all things new.

Only in fairy tales is there a … Once upon a time …, everything bad is not extinguished in our rhythm and our rhymes.

Irena Sendler was detained by the Germans. Her legs and feet were broken. She blessed what she did with her thoughts, secrets never spoken.

In the garment of love’s blessings, Irena Sendler was blessed. She was summoned to be executed by the Germans, but herein lies the test:

“If hate holds you hostage, if hate holds you dear, remember what love costs, all the human heart can endure.”

Anguish is a sorrow that tomorrow will bring. In the comfort of 1,500 children, a message loudly rings:

“Be of good faith, one for all. God has no boundaries. Into love we must fall.”

Kathy Paysen 2012

In loving memory of Irena Sendler, 1910 - 2008.

(1) Galations 3:28