One of the most memorable experiences in my life is having had the opportunity to live in Israel surrounded by Holocaust survivors. On one kibbutz the majority of residents were either survivors or children of survivors. You can read all of the books in the world about the holocaust and apart from actually living through it, one can never really fathom the inhumane atrocities handed out by fellow man. In my mid-twenties the stories I heard, and lives I encountered, has undoubtedly shaped who I am today. One cannot experience this tragic part of history and not be changed; even as mere witness.
This poem is one expression I felt having living amongst the Holocaust survivors in Israel. May we never forget and may it never happen again.
Depthless eyes staring back,
with no regard to what they’ve seen.
Living,
walking,
breathing dead.
Never comprehending.
Following day-to-day routines.
Ever hoping,
to someday reunite with
loved ones taken from the past.
Is life cruel?
Is life justified?
How long must this journey last?
Eyes, hollowed from lamentation.
Tattooed memories haunt them.
Why was it not them?
Why not another?
Nightmares.
Reality?
Confusion.
Surrealism.
Sleepless nights; the patterns of life.
Forgiveness; a soundless muffled word.
Whistles of death trains
piercing their ears;
If they would
or
if they could.
Young ones never understand
how torture rips at their opened wounds.
How they suffered
and suffer still;
Liberation came,
but
none too soon.
German; a cursed language
to such victims of war.
Millions of lives,
suddenly–
violently –
torn.
Death arrives like a cheapened whore.
Soon the hunted will be gone.
The textbooks will speak of a living hell,
Yet –
details are lost on forgotten pages.
New stories are current –
and
new things to tell.
Led like lambs to the slaughterhouse,
we sat in silence, pretending
it never could happen.
Not in our lives
could mankind be so cruel,
possessed with such venom,
darkness, and sin.
Remember the past as though it were current.
Let us never forget the heroic lives
of those who sleep in Abraham’s bosom;
of Six
Million
Jews,
who faced their abrupt demise.
The cycles of life, unexpectedly crushed.
It wasn’t just those who lost their lives;
it was the ones yet unborn, that we mourn.
It was their children,
grandchildren,
their husbands,
their wives.
Posted by Erich Shelton. Posted In : Poetry
I currently teach graphic design and illustration at the University of Southern Indiana. I really love teaching and the challenges which this provides me. It not only keeps me young, but forces me to be that ongoing learner; sometimes referred to as a life-long learner. This goal of continuing to learn as finally brought me back to the role as a student as well. Some years ago I started and MFA, but due to an automobile accident was unable to complete it.
I have just been accepted as a student at the Academy of Art University in San Francisco and will finally be able to work on the MFA. The great thing is I can continue working at USI and will visit the AAU in the summer. The rest of the time I am able to take my courses online.
Like technology and life, it is constantly changing and evolving. What a joy to be part of it all!
