Taken From Stormfront

i have no mind

for the thickness in the gas,

spraying onto a child’s skin –

but i have the thought

that your alternative to the conflict

counts not for sin.

and if it did, i know

my God has forgiven

you, before the guards

who brought you there,

or the man who took your bribe.

in some brown and dingy

image, i piece up

the war you lived:

the hands that held you down;

the tattoo above his tongue;

and the marks of beasts he obeyed.

i try to uncloud what earthly will he had

to make you some sort of slave,

but these things are not known to me.

i don’t have the focus

for the picture, sitting in your mind:

it must come before most thoughts

and boil under others.

it must denature joy

and any hope you build for forgetting all of that.

and i guess for this life,

(a child looking both ways;

both ways are bombs)

i hope the chaos paused

somewhere along the way;

though only to return, once you began to think it wouldn’t.

if you’ve had to earn the quiet beyond your bones,

(for having nothing to believe in)

so be it;

but now its yours! this calm from Earth’s whole storm!

i hope Heaven makes a room for you thats all yours!

even if its just to polish floors,

rest assured, there’ll be no war:

no wooden shoes or embedded shrapnel to your limbs.

i’m sorry you did not have more happiness

but what calms you now will be forever,

so says our God who art in Heaven,

there, i pray you’ve found your way. ~

this was for my grandma who passed away in Dec. 04. She was an orphan in Nurnberg during WWII and as a young girl, offered her body to one of the guards to avoid the gas chambers. she lived a very promiscuous life with never much guidance and had it not been for my grandpa (an american soldier), I can only imagine her fate.


2 responses to “[schatz]

  1. Sarah. (…)just; i find no words.

  2. wow…i love the flow of the poem..nicely done..a great poem for your grandmother..

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