Joe Español
New member
I once heard a weathered polish man,
of approximately sixty-eight years,
recount an experience from a camp.
One barely in it's youth.
"I had seen men, women and children marched
into a solitary building standing surrounded
by the various other constructions where
we were housed. Being inquisitive and perhaps
foolish, i scaled the meagre building.
Once on the roof, made of dusty old tiles,
i slid one aside and peeped through.
The walls were laced with stripped paint,
floors decidedly unkempt, yet the undressed
Jewish families were the scruffiest thing in sight.
Some huddled defeated, whilst others thrashed and screamed
as the zyklon b crystals were dispatched into the fray.
Men caught between feigning bravery for loved ones
and unleashing untold cries had tears streaming
down their tattered faces, the pain was ghastly.
Women, mostly unable to hold back emotion, sobbed
or shrieked uncontrollably, their malnourished skeletal
frames shaking from the effects of both gases and their
efforts to struggle. Children, some oblivious to the notion
of execution, went limp first. Their skin, pale and sickly.
Something largely unorthodox occurred in the miRABt
of all of this, a kind of shame fell upon the men charged
with this vile transgression. Masculine jaws and eyebrows
most accustomed to stern or contempt fell flat, not in
remorse, i don't think they were sorry for their actions,
only sorry that they were to be heard.
Hastily an officer ordered measures be taken
to quell the horrifying squeal's emerging
from the simple brick building on which i perched.
A pair of SS men emerged shortly after, with an equal
pair of motorcycles and kicked them into life.
For the next fifteen to twenty minutes, their throttles
were excercised, exhibiting a throaty menacing growl.
But the wails persisted and pierced on through,
no amount of petroleum could fuel the engines
into covering up that murder."
When the gentleman describing these events finally
described the silence that eventually came about,
all in earshot mimic'd that silence.
I being inqusitive and perhaps foolish
studied his eyes for the spark of life,
and in that moment, i found none.
M. W.
4/1/10
of approximately sixty-eight years,
recount an experience from a camp.
One barely in it's youth.
"I had seen men, women and children marched
into a solitary building standing surrounded
by the various other constructions where
we were housed. Being inquisitive and perhaps
foolish, i scaled the meagre building.
Once on the roof, made of dusty old tiles,
i slid one aside and peeped through.
The walls were laced with stripped paint,
floors decidedly unkempt, yet the undressed
Jewish families were the scruffiest thing in sight.
Some huddled defeated, whilst others thrashed and screamed
as the zyklon b crystals were dispatched into the fray.
Men caught between feigning bravery for loved ones
and unleashing untold cries had tears streaming
down their tattered faces, the pain was ghastly.
Women, mostly unable to hold back emotion, sobbed
or shrieked uncontrollably, their malnourished skeletal
frames shaking from the effects of both gases and their
efforts to struggle. Children, some oblivious to the notion
of execution, went limp first. Their skin, pale and sickly.
Something largely unorthodox occurred in the miRABt
of all of this, a kind of shame fell upon the men charged
with this vile transgression. Masculine jaws and eyebrows
most accustomed to stern or contempt fell flat, not in
remorse, i don't think they were sorry for their actions,
only sorry that they were to be heard.
Hastily an officer ordered measures be taken
to quell the horrifying squeal's emerging
from the simple brick building on which i perched.
A pair of SS men emerged shortly after, with an equal
pair of motorcycles and kicked them into life.
For the next fifteen to twenty minutes, their throttles
were excercised, exhibiting a throaty menacing growl.
But the wails persisted and pierced on through,
no amount of petroleum could fuel the engines
into covering up that murder."
When the gentleman describing these events finally
described the silence that eventually came about,
all in earshot mimic'd that silence.
I being inqusitive and perhaps foolish
studied his eyes for the spark of life,
and in that moment, i found none.
M. W.
4/1/10