[I wrote this poem a number of years ago. It is a scene out of my life. That Holocaust survivor is my father. This poem is dedicated to my father's mother, Chaja Malka Adler, who perished in the Holocaust, alongside her fifteen-year-old daughter, Marjam.]
A Survivor’s Moment
His eyes look directly into mine.
Not playful this time –
More like pleading.
“I don’t even have a picture
of my mother,” he says,
and walks out –
leaving me bewildered,
pensive
and apologetic.
3 comments:
Sad and touching.
It must've been hard to grow up with that kind of burden placed upon you.
Thanks, Dreamer, for your comment. The "child of a survivor"status wasn't such a burden, but knowing how my father felt about losing his mother and siblings and his not even having anything tangible, other than a memory, hurt me...because he has been hurting all these years.
How sad. Not even a picture? This brought tears to my eyes. I am so sorry for the pain he (and you, by extension) have lived with because of this most terrible event in history.
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