Grandmother
Olga Kraus
1874 - 1943
Treblinka Death Camp


Booba Olga

As Olga sternly,
Stared down at me
I felt her beady glare
Bore into me,
So I threw away
Her picture.

And now I find
She was a humourous
Soul,
Like her son
And granddaughter,
After her.
A wicked,
Evil
Sense of humour,
Honed,
Over the centuries,
By one Olga or another,
Till their genes
Slipped into me.

My character
Forged through
A double helix.
My father told me
The secret of life -
Three little letters -
"DNA" he chuckled,
And made me learn
By heart
The name of life.
"Deoxyribonucleic acid"
I spouted at eight,
With mutual glee
At naming

The elixir.

He too was touched
With comedy.
Always the first to start
And the last to stop.
Always the first to laugh
And the quickest to forgive.

A vibration of understanding
Flowed
Between us.
A magnetic harmony,

A circle of genes,
Crowning us with
Illusive happiness.

How I would have loved
To have known you, Olga,
And been part of your
Magnetic circle.



Poetry by Esti D-G
Read 575 times
Written on 2009-04-12 at 16:51

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Eli The PoetBay support member heart!
Ah... such thoughts I've also had. To step into history and physically be with those from whom we descended. Once upon a time - when I was very young - I believed that we could, although in other ways, we still can. Thank You for this lovely text.
2009-04-13