Archive
05/09/11
Rising
You wake up, awaken, stir, ascend, rise (call it what you won't), Only to sense your ashes, dust, essence, aura (Call them what you won't)
Floating in the odoriferous skies, atmospheres, outer spaces (Call those zones what you won't) Over Austria, Poland, Czechoslovakia, Belgium, Germany, France,
Only to wonder where your wandering soul is located, What manner of ravenous, evil, flesh-grease-eating beast Has deported your innocent spirit
To the farthest eastern reaches beyond the pale, Where the meek, the weak, the fragile, the frangible, and the frail Fail to survive the abominations of human cruelty.
But these feculent, pestilential skies reject all your surmises, Your desperate speculations, with their Third Reich rhetoric, Their propagandistic Nazi indoctrinations,
Transform, transmute, transfigure, transmogrify, transubstantiate you (Call the all-too-thorough genocidal process what you won't) Into clouds taking the shapes of inferior beings, Jewish waifs,
Vermin estranged not only from the human race But from their Old Testament chosen tribes of lost people — Dust dwellers, Hapirus, Hebrews (call these doomed what you won't).
To this day, when you drift through such nightmarish realities, All you see (call them what you won't) Are other saved, liberated, resurrected call-them-what-you-won'ts
Begging YHWH to bury them beneath eternity's merciful quicklime, So that they won't have to suffer the ageless humiliation Of having to remain in naked view of all subsequent generations,
Who will look up and wonder who those wandering souls are, Who are still lifting, ascending, rising (call it what you won't), Everywhere, into the welkin over nowhere.
05/09/11
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