My father kept her stuff for 65 years, never giving up hope.
I inherited the bracelet on his death.
A Shoah Bracelet,
That's what it is,
Not a flurry
Of numbers,
Etched onto
Auntie Dinah's
Forearm,
But a golden
Folie,
A 1920's
Faberge
Folie.
She gave it
To my father,
For safekeeping,
While she brought out
Her parents,
From Dresden,
But she never
Came
Back.
And so,
I wear Ilse's
Holocaust
Bracelet,
To every simcha,
To every wedding,
To every party,
That I go to,
And she is happy
With me still,
And her memory,
Lives on in me,
Though,
I never
Knew her.
Poetry by Esti D-G
Read 594 times
Written on 2009-06-09 at 23:39
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I inherited the bracelet on his death.
A Shoah Bracelet
A Shoah Bracelet,
That's what it is,
Not a flurry
Of numbers,
Etched onto
Auntie Dinah's
Forearm,
But a golden
Folie,
A 1920's
Faberge
Folie.
She gave it
To my father,
For safekeeping,
While she brought out
Her parents,
From Dresden,
But she never
Came
Back.
And so,
I wear Ilse's
Holocaust
Bracelet,
To every simcha,
To every wedding,
To every party,
That I go to,
And she is happy
With me still,
And her memory,
Lives on in me,
Though,
I never
Knew her.
Poetry by Esti D-G
Read 594 times
Written on 2009-06-09 at 23:39
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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ngaio Beck |
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