Tuesday, January 04, 2005

Just Because...

And just because it was kindly suggested to me in the comments section to share some of my poetry in my blog, I'll provide you with a poem that was published in a Canadian Jewish literary review a few years ago. It was written in memory of an aunt of mine who lived in Eastern Europe and died in 1942, age 15 -- at the hands of the Nazis. My daughter is named for this cherished little sister of my father.

As a child of a survivor, the Holocaust has played a great role in my life, in my way of thinking, of living, of being. And it often translates into poetry, some of which has been published, other poems just waiting patiently to be shared.

I am glad this one was published, and I am pleased to share it with you.



The Doll


Her body,
tattered and torn,
discolored dress
unraveling at the seams,
face smudged with dirt.

But her eyes,
lifelike in their ocean blue,
stare unceasingly at the world –
as if taking in all the fine details,
as if memorizing them
for some future time.

The little girl
clutches her prized possession.

Her dress, too, is tattered and torn,
its yellow star fading, but not fast enough.
Her face, too, is smudged with dirt.
Her ocean-blue eyes,
so like the doll’s
as they stare unceasingly at the world –
as if documenting the fine details,
as if memorizing them
for some future time.

The child looks
at the man
who offers her pieces of chocolate.
“Czekolada, czekolada.”
He holds out the treat to her.

She shakes her head no.

“Matka, Matka.”
Mother, Mother,
she replies.

“Martwy.”
Dead, he says matter-of-factly.

And as the little girl holds her doll
to her chest, she points to it.
“Lalka.” Doll.
And then she points to herself.
“Matka.”


1 comment:

Jozef Imrich, Esq. said...

Matka, Matka ...

Writing is necessary to vent the steam, so that the brain doesn't explode. Writing is a rage that is controlled by reason ...

Thanks for sharing with us this touching poem.