Buchenwald

Buchenwald I decided I would visit Buchenwald, The home of lampshades and those heaps of shoes.

Though August, I was struck dumb by cold's core As I looked upon the peephole of gas chamber door.

However depraved the casual visitor, There was no laughter there. All Fall silent and take refuge in their silences, Quiet as the sentry of heart's shore.

Wilst du mit mir spatzeren gehen?

Nein!

I walk away and find a place to breathe, By boxcars bleaching on a railroad siding.

What was in these people's wicked minds?

I do not have a clue, but there are signs They wished to genocide, not only Jews But sanity itself and conscience Which had bothered them insufferably long.

Ich bin Ein Deutscher. Ich bin bin grosse Mann.

Ich will biden die Osterlamm, mit meiner Jungern.

Never, until the finish of the sun, Despite the long and short of all my days, Will I forgive, much less forget The Hell unleashed within this bitter place, This shame and slander of the human race, Whose roots reside, at last, in all of us.

Carl Estrin