Today was spent in the Center listening to wonderful and informative lectures from our professors and even a visiting professor from Auschwitz. Because we did not get out and did not take any photos, I have this photo I took a few days ago at the Jewish cemetery in Wadowice. I knew when I took the picture, I felt something but I wasn't sure what it was. I've had nearly a week to think about this photo and what it meant and how it made me feel. What did that glass symbolize for me, that it has kept me thinking all week? What did I think this glass symbolizes for the people who lived or died in the Holocaust, especially the Jews? So many questions, and I tried to organized them one of the only ways I could: poetry.
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| The Person Living In the Broken Glass |
Why is this glass breaking around me?
It was fragile, but strong.
The world I knew, the world I saw.
It was breaking, but it has to last.
Why is this glass caving in?
It is... leaving me.
The world I knew, the world I believed.
Why is this glass shattering?
The world I knew, the world is cutting me.
Glass sharp like the knife cutting through the fog.
Glass sharp like the names they throw at me.
Glass sharp because there is no more glass to safeguard me.
The pieces fall to the ground, feeling the ground
dirty, wet, but I am still dignified.
The pieces fall together, feeling for each other
longing, craving, but I am still patient.
Why am I the only one who lives in Broken Glass?
You are warm.
You are fed.
You do not live in Broken Glass.
You do not live in an abandoned life.
You do not wish for one shard of cover.
You do not wish for one piece of bread.
You do not wish for one shred of hope.
It was fragile, but strong.
Oh, strength! Why have you abandoned me?
Oh, life! Oh, death!
Choose for me, whether or not I am destined
to the life in the Broken Glass.
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