Reconciliation?

em = By Duncan Richardson

In fruit boxes

on shelves

the `disappeared' lie

jumbled

mostly unnamed

but labelled

“Product of Argentina”.
Their children

force adopted

lost between names

smile on screen

hoping eyes, nose, mouth,

will be familiar

to some photo clutching relative.
One girl has a poem

scrawled by her father

on a door

before they dragged him away.

She's glad she has that verse

leaning against a wall,

she reads it

when others talk

of reconciliation.

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