I Sat Last Week With A Dear Friend....Tattooed by hate.

I Sat Last Week With A Dear Friend, Tatooed By Hate.

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I sat last week with a dear friend,
an eighty year old survivor of the death camps,
who on April 8th, 1944 at the whim of two nazi guards
was beaten to within an inch of his life, and had his eyes
kicked out of his head, leaving him blinded.

Today he speaks in schools, and at temples
and warns of the horrors that men can perpetuate,
even worse in his recalls, he tells them of when
he was on a death march, starving, with his feet bloodied
into open sores, from the wooden shoes they forced them all to wear.

2,500 left the camp on that death march
and in his blindness, every hour he heard
the increasing pistol shots of those who were killed
for failing to keep up. It started to sound like drum rolls.

Suddenly after many days into this march
the nazis headed the entire group of prisoners
into a wooded area and fled.

The Allied forces about an hour later liberated
the remnants of this group,

but at the time they were freed
there was only 700 left.

See,
time was of the

essence, to get in there
and save as many

as humanly possible,
just ten days earlier

and 2,500 would have lived.

It was inexcusable for

any humans to have waited
so long to take action

against such evil.
That cannot ever be changed

by any amount of excuses.

I have looked into

the face of the holocaust
and heard his tragic,

eye tearing tales, and trembled
for all that were lost

because it took too long to go
and to do what was

right at first realization.

From 1939, to 1944,

world headlines documented
the atrocities daily,

and they were read with the
shaking of heads and

nothing much more was done!
Period.

 

©-MFB III


Peace to you and yours

Mickey for all time


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author notes


I will not capitalize nazis, they were scum and undeserving of the honor!
As a postscript to all this, a relative of mine, who was a liberator at the death camp Dachau and has been gone a long while at only the age of 60, inspired this poem below:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The hollow cost of hate!



It was just four

sun bleached photos

that a soldier shot
in Dachau in 1945......

documented and made

real by his prescence there.


I knew him well and he has
shown very few of

the horrors he'd brought back.


I counted 123

visible babies crumpled
in rag doll fashion
and 81 children sleeping under
the adult hood of

dead flesh above them.


Some folks say the

Holocaust was staged
not real... produced

by tricks and fake photos,

but I've talked to a

man who stood there
and shot four pictures

and had to stop
to vomit and couldn't

take any more.


I've seen the

hollow cost of hate
drip from the beaded saline
in his eyes and in 58 year old
Kodak moments from hell.


The price is ungodly
and hell is full of
Nazi's in jumbled piles
of agonized living,
breathing, burning flesh.


Choking forever on
fire and brimstone gas
as they mimic forever

their victims fates,

as they suffer endlessly
for what they left behind
a legacy of hate
in a six million high pile
of a precious people
exterminated.

©-MFB III

 

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