A memorial to holocaust fatalities, written September 28th, 2013.
Cold noses and weeping eyes.
Quiet bones and frozen lips.
A dark place full of lurking secrets and hushed corners.
Drifting warmth from one bowl to the hands of the weak.
The hands of the silent.
Half sweeten tea,grey water and struggling smiles.
Lost but not gone.
Incomplete but not forgotten.
Invisible but not dead.
Loose hairs and wet floors.
Shakey minds and breaking fingers.
Skin caving on skin.
Bodies tearing at the small amount of flesh that hasn’t disappeared yet.
That hasn’t been melted away.
Thin fabric and paper.
Nothing that can fight off the bite of winter.
Scampering tiny feet and silent songs,silent prayer.
Time continues and the sound of scampering feet lessens and lessens.
No, not because they don’t feel like running.
No, not because they have no energy.
But because the clothing left behind can not run for their lifeless,young bodies.
Their bodies turned into nothing but an object the world wouldn’t think twice to acknowledge.
But for them they scamper elsewhere. Elsewhere is better they hope.
They sit with such sadness,fatigue and loneliness on their minds.
On their skin.
Patterns of the dancing lash of the whip paint their skin with what others think as “shame”
What others think they deserve.
The marks do no shame.
The marks scream “beauty”. Scream “fighter”. Scream “breathing.”
Scream “still alive”.
Silently He worries.
Silently She cries.
Tears stream down their faces blank,falling complexions.
Pale cheeks,purple lips.
Like pure icing with black swirls.
So defiant they are. So loud in color over an icy base.
The tips,the corners of their mouths fail to turn upwards.
She is alone at mind.
But not alone in the “shelter.”
In loving memory of the angels made from 1939-1945.