hear back in the wind howls Child
harmless looks lost in the frost on a glass
tarnished and the words cling to each other not to disperse
to write endless rows
glabrous along the walls of the barracks. The grid
smells of rust and blood
of outstretched hands
open to collect the last light of a sun
thin and washed out.
This evil that destroys the inside
mercy of God marginalized
impotent in the gas chambers,
a God who died together in a pile of bones crucified.
not born in the camps of roses
deported
the silence of the fields has the sound of metal
glittering.
The tortures have no peace, no time, even calling for revenge
but memory, that yes,
eternal
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