Once in a while I find myself at Auschwitz/Birkenau.
Looking over acres of tortured history
the boxcars, train tracks, workcamps
ton-sized piles of eyeglasses and human hair
discarded suitcases all labeled "Israel" or "Rachel"
And the ovens.
The memory is as soul-crushing today as my visit seven years ago.
I feel the same sense of helpless misunderstanding,
my mind refusing to accept what I know to be true:
yes, we are capable of that.
Pity pours out of me for the 6 million Jews I never knew,
those who watched their families die before being worked-starved-tortured themselves
those of all faiths who died defending Jews they knew,
and those they did not.
Gypsies, Professors, Queers, Dissidents...
And for those who committed the worse sin of all:
the ones who bear the horrible burden
of survival.
I have tried many times to collect my feelings,
to make real something I can understand only from a comfortable distance.
Pictures, poetry, tears - none of them are sufficient.
Meanwhile, religion has floated through my life imperceptibly
without origin or obvious use.
Then came Sam.
As attraction grew, I found books on my doorstep.
Now I go to the class, fumble through the prayers,
contemplate the mikvah.
I find there is another Jew I have never known.
I can't yet explain the difference
between the Talmud, Torah and Tanakh
but ask me again next week... I'm getting close.
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POP!
11 years ago
6 comments:
This kind of light verse is OK for fun but you really should move on to some serious topics.
Hee hee. But seriously -
I don't think you need the opening disclaimer.
And I'd like to feel more like I was there with you looking at the things you describe early on in the poem. When it moved into the more abstract commentary it lost me, especially the love arriving part, but the early details like the piles of eyeglasses and the hair really pulled me in, and I really liked the earnestness of the observation "we are capable of that."
I'd kill it and start with "Looking over..."
I like the abrupt intro a lot now. You may want to fix the following typos: third stanza, first line - I think you mean "today as during my visit"; fourth stanza, "Dissidents" is misspelled. Good stuff!
There are two things here that I think make for an amazing juxtaposition:
the speaker, I presume you, standing there aghast at Auschwitz/Birkenau,
and then that same person sitting in a class fumbling through prayers, trying to figure out how history affects your personal spiritual life.
That's a cool thing. I find that fascinating.
Cutting back and forth between those two scenes could be a great short film.
Might be worth a try to cut it down to just those two elements and let it ferment a little while and see what happens. Just a thought.
Trenchman, I think the will to write is something all of us on here have lost from time to time (okay, for years at a time, in my case). I've found that having folks who I know will be reading was a great motivator -- but I'm also someone who's a lot more easily motivated by doing something for/with others than for myself. Also, having a place or time to write where you're not "allowed" to do anything else can be helpful for some people -- if you say "I'm only allowed to write or do nothing from 9:00-9:30," and you can hold yourself to that, you'll be far more likely to write, and you'll suddenly notice that it's not such a burden or so impossible to fit in. I offer you all of this advice, despite the fact that I'm utterly incapable of following it myself! Good luck.
Trenchman -
my advice is to not wait for perfection. One trick I've learned from writing ads under tight deadlines is that sometimes you just have to get something down on paper and tell yourself that it's going to suck. Give yourself permission. Then go in and try to make each line suck just a little bit less and see where that takes you.
And like Ryan said – sometimes a little feedback is the best motivator.
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