his father told him
not to worry
and to meet him
everyday
after dinner
by the fence
that separated
where the boys lived
and the men lived
and so he did
everyday
and the minutes
they had together
were all that was left
his mother
and sister
were somewhere else
in that awful place
where people screamed
and disappeared
and there was very little food
and it was cold
and he had to pretend
to be older
like his father told him
because younger boys
are taken somewhere
and never return
he did not know why
they were taken from their home
so many
such a long trip
filth
agony
sickness
pain
despair
death
so each day
he went to that fence
for many months
as his father grew thinner
and his mother
and sister
were somewhere else
I love you, said father
be strong
be brave
work hard
come tomorrow
my son
and so he did
except his father
was not there
that day
or the next day
or any other day
again
and all that he had
was all gone
in that awful place
called Auschwitz
this is a heartbreaker.. cuts deep. i visited the Dachau concentration camp a few years back, and the moment you stepped onto the grounds, it was like the air changed. the mood changed. there are no words to describe it. i was seventeen and i didn’t have a clue… but right then and there i felt it. i understood.
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It is a heartbreaker and I cannot read it without crying, as I did when I wrote it. I have imagined myself visiting one of those camps and I know exactly what would happen…..I would be so grief stricken as to be overwhelmed and undone. Unable to continue my visit I would just freaking sob, feeling the souls, absorbing the horror.
Thank you for commenting on this. It means the world to me.
Mike
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That you could feel it so deeply says much about you. I am never far from the grief and horror. Add a fair amount of anger and you know who I am. I lost great grandparents to the Nazis.
It’s good having you as a reader and your blog is fabulous and fun.
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You know, I couldn’t comment just after reading this. I had to cry for bit, after trying not to. I’m not sure I’ve ever read anything so beautiful that hurt so much to read. It was like being there, watching them, day after day. I felt the cold. Then I felt the boy’s emptiness… that did me in.
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Mike, why have you stopped writing? Or why have I missed your writing? I only know you through your photography but there is so much more depth here- though I never doubted you had such depths! My wife and I share a fascination and horror with this period of history.
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Read Jesus and the $20 bill under memoirs. It got freshly pressed. Taking pictures is easier than writing and I am, by nature, lazy. But writing gives me much more pleasure, truth be told.
As a Jewish person you might imagine my own horror which includes family members who were killed. Maybe that’s why I keep that sword we talked about. And a 38 special we have not talked about. Another memoir is called No Hesitation, about something that happened when I was in college.
Thanks, Emilio.
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