Of Auschwitz (7 Poems)

1.Shoe-Case, Auschwitz Clogs, boots and shoes built to the skies They stun the mind and glut the eyes All plundered due to human guile In every shape and cut and style That speak of old atrocities Where were the good, the kind, the wise Who should have counted human sighs? The empty clogs on this grim pile Those crimes unmask. Why did their God not heed their cries That from such torment did arise? Selection. To an ending vile Their frightened feet walked the long mile Why did no soldier sympathise? Just shoes to ask! 2. The Boys Who Wouldn't Grow Up Welcome to Auschwitz. As a holiday camp for children it is unparalleled The strict timetable is character-building Food fads are not catered for There are daily challenges, stretching them to the limit We have a camp orchestra, showers, An endless supply of constantly changing playmates Here, children learn to share and enjoy adventures Quite beyond what you could contemplate. We do not encourage laziness, We aim to instill the work ethos Whenever they cross the gates The games on offer are endless: They go on scavenger hunts Play sardines in the dorms Winky winky murderer Raises screams of anticipation Hide and seek is discouraged Solitaire isn't an option Freeze frame's only played at sudden roll calls Sharks and Minnows is our most-played game At nights our little campers dream of food As circus horses dream of an open prairie They are the Lost Boys Stranded in a nightmare, the gas-tide rising No boat comes to sail them safely home They'll take no shadow with them On to Neverland 3. Paradise Revisited: Auschwitz, Mrs Hoess's House Imagine a cottage in the country Imagine a garden, a swimming pool Think of the sun in the flowers, Imagine your children playing, Carefree and sturdy-limbed An idyll of languorous pleasure. Are the seams in your stockings straight? The cook in her apron smelling of peeled potatoes Your nimble tailors, sewing designer clothes, Your furs of mink and ermine Ready for winter, hiding in the cupboard The cooling showers of summer Sprinkle your roses As you sit in your chair and read The only blot in your landscape The tall chimneys, belching their endless smoke Over the fence, a thousand miles away. 4. Holocaust, Auschwitz Mothers and fathers, children, babies too Gone in a blink into the empty sky Their simple crime was being born a Jew. Hard to believe whole countries never knew. Too terrified, perhaps, to even try Imagine what a Fascist world might do. Wives, youngsters, husbands, all with a tattoo Unless it was decreed that they should die - Shuffling towards the showers in a queue. All their tomorrows up some Nazi flue. And still men jib at facts, and would deny That millions walked into the shower's adieu. Those cattle trucks from Europe thundered through Whole towns where no-one heard each ghetto's cry The moral compass shattered, all askew. Go visit Auschwitz. Learn that this is true, Feel the despair of those who here passed by Vast evil out of racial hatred grew, Live for today, but give the dead their due. 5. Hair- Harvest, Auschwitz. Copper and chestnut, raven, long and flowing Tresses of virgins, children, all unwed Passing the weeping-willow, windswept, blowing, Auburne or ash-blonde, salt and pepper, red, Braided or tousled, under the barbed-wire bough, Tangled or matted from a prisoner's bed Long Jewish side-locks, orthodox, hung low, Walk to their Nazis hosts, quite safe until Flick of the thumb will state, you stay- you go The babes in arms, whose fledgling hair will fill Some SS general's amply-padded chair Top-knots and hairpins, down like snowflakes spill: There's no escape, for Evil's everywhere; Thousands of ashes tumble through the air 6. A Visit to Planet Auschwitz The people-carrier's a Polish taxi It's air-conditioned, waterproof and roomy The TV screen drops down. The film is grainy The others in the taxi soon grow weary It's just a video-clip like any other It could be from a B-list horror-movie. We park, we disembark, we stretch our legs A comfort break. The sanitary arrangements Are gleaming, automated, clean's a whistle Rinsed and refreshed, we step into the sun A glorious day. The smell of Polish coffee Wafts from the café, where with plates piled high Diners chose their tables, check their watches The atmosphere is verging on the gay The poplars lining gravel paths are green. Their leaves like tiny flags on shining boughs Under the German words, 'Arbeit Macht Frei, ' We're strapped into the seats for health and safety Our comfort is of paramount importance Squads of school-parties march behind their leaders The double rows of barbed wire fence are harmless, Beside a skull and crossbones on a stick The Polish guide speaks English with an accent Exhibits tell their tale in grisly silence A child's red shoe, glows in a glass display case Single roses, draped or stuck in crannies A single, plump blonde braid, amongst the cloud Of poisoned, dark-grey, matted, Jewish hair The spectacles are like a spider's web Constructed on a futuristic planet Of robots, where life's all mechanization A nesting place, an altar to myopia Prosthetic limbs, like snapped off metal cogs Frozen in time, are going nowhere ever A baby's pinafore all stitched in flowers, Laid out, an accusation and a grief Cases are here, their baggage-weight allowance Less than Vienna Airways for each traveller With no return ticket. Contents plundered Bearing the name and country of their owner Where 20,000 faced the firing squad, Young, smiling tourists photograph each other Do women watch them through the weathered planks Where Mengele prepared them for the knife? The buildings here are red, two-story brick. For this is Auschwitz I, where most could work Or perish from disease, starvation, hanging The gallows, like a dismal washing line Beyond, is Birkenau, the sister camp End of the line where railroad convoys stopped. Entire communities off-loaded here, The human loaves that fed the Auschwitz bakeries The trees around are rustling green with echoes A solitary bird flies in the sky We're taken to a pleasant little mound, Led underground into the killing chamber It's dimly lit. We're all crammed in together Like rush-hour on the tube, jostling for space But they were naked, dignity stripped bare The lights went out, and then, the gas, the gas. One million cobblestones, strange monument Our shoes are white with dust that won't shake off The people-carrier's waiting at the gates. Back in my room, I shower in cleansing water 7. The Roma The Roma moved from India, I don't remember when. We pitch our camp, we set our fire In wood or moor or fen. In England, once, they hung us, And in France, laid on the brand Bohemians cut off our ears, We tramped from land to land The Hapsburg empire flogged us, The Spanish made us slaves In countries over Europe We were hounded to our graves The Czech folk sterilized us, The Germans fenced us in At Auschwitz-Birkenau we knew The ultimate in sin They studied us, they tortured us, They put us in the fire But we're the Roma, we rise up, Our race will not expire Our maidens they are virgins Till they pay the bridal price Our caravans are spotless And we keep our clothing nice Our Romany musicians Entranced Franz Liszt and Brahms In the East we read the Koran And in Scotland sing the psalms You'll hear us in bolero, In flamenco, gypsy jazz We dance, we work, we fortune-tell. We're known for our bizazze We chose a place that suits us, Washing flapping in the breeze Making brushes, taming horses Underneath the leafy trees We go where fancy takes us, With a whistle and a song The Roma's like the wandering wind, That never settles long.