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Portrait of Mrs. Faynzilber
by Esther Zibell 20x24, Oil con canvas 2004 (color)
The Memories...They Last Forever!
The house was empty when I arrived–
Dark, lifeless…
A queer stillness engulfs me…a strange odor...
The silence of doom echoes my footsteps.
A chair, broken,
Papers strewn, disarray…
Plates on the table,
Papa’s pipe, cold;
Mama’s shawl torn,
On the floor…
I pick it up–
So soft and beautiful…
Delicate aroma of her perfume…
Roses–
***
They had not time …
Gestapo was here…taken everyone–
Why, why??
I peer through the window,
Watching, frightened, terrified.
In the street, where I played,
There they walk like cattle, led to slaughter,
My friends, their parents;
Where are they going???
Heart pounding in my throat,
Frantic, breath short,
Gasping,
Crippling sense of disaster…
Body frozen, paralyzed, feverish,
Blood standing still…
Sweat pouring down my face,
Panic!
Where are you Mama?? Mama…
Harrowing cries, screaming, everywhere,
Darkness surrounds me,
Fear, beyond comprehension,
Tears sting my eyes–
Where are they all?
Where?
They’ve taken hundreds, thousands…
I saw them go…
No one returns …Life has stopped!
They leave with little,
A suitcase, a box, a cane,
Whatever they can carry,
Holding each other,
Searching comfort and strength,
Clamoring for warmth and support…
Horror written on their faces,
Shock, disbelief…
Overcome by anguish and grief…
Papa, Papa, it’s dark – I am afraid–
Where are you Papa, …hold me…please…
Music begins to play.
I hear it…soft, gentle…
My mind surrenders…
It’s real, I smile...
The piano, then a violin
Mama’s soft voice, comforting,
Humming in the background…
A sweet, soulful melody I know:
Oif’n Pripitschuk brennt a Faierl…und in Stub is heiss
Und der Rebble lernt kleine Kiderlach deim Alef Beis…
Blissful memory...
Hold on – hold on!!
Sweet cakes on the table,
Fruits, lovely plates–
Soft candlelight illuminates Papa in his chair,
Always calm, fine,
Puffing away, savoring these moments…
A smile playing on his lips,
His eyes so gentle, gazing lovingly, always…
My Papa, my Papa...
Every week they came,
Our family…my Uncles, Aunts,
Cousins, Saba and Safta…
I So Love Shabbos…
Was yesterday just a dream??
So long ago, it seems…
* * *
You there… get over here!
Harsh that voice, brutal, vicious...
I reel… see him…Rachmones!!!
Eyes glaring, he sneers, grabs,
Pulls me through the door…
The stairs–
Down,
I barely keep my balance
Walk!–
I fall…
His stick strikes my back…I scream…
He laughs…
"Move, you! Get up!…
Thought you’d Get away…did, you…
No one gets away,
No escaping now!
Move! The truck...
Get on !
He snorts…
Evil, vindictive, cruel, malicious…
What have I done?
What have WE done? …
"Jews, Schweine Hunde,
The pack of you,
Infernal garbage of humanity,
You know each other, all of you"…
* * *
The truck moves, slowly through the streets,
Cramped like animals,
Packed like sardines…
We sit…
Each one alone–
Each one lost in his story, his sorrow, his pain,
Forgotten by a world that does not hear our cries…
November’s bitter cold bites my flesh–
No one speaks...
There, my school…
Rebbe, Rebbeniu,
Where are you???
Silence, no reply…
Where is G-D???
Robono Shel Haolam!!!
Look at us – find us!!
Have you forgotten???
Shema Israel, Hashem Elokeinu, Hashem Echad...
A baby cries, I turn–
Empty faces staring into the blackness of night…
Huddled humans in dread and terror:
Children hovering and clutching,
Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers,
Grasping in horror at life for a moment–
Papa, mama…I am afraid, so afraid!!
Save me, I beg you…
I’ve never been alone before,
Always protected, always sheltered,
Always loved...
Who will protect me now???
No answer – deathly still!
Only the frosty, frigid, hissing wind,
Chants poignant, taunting melodies of our destiny.
The trains,
The stench, barracks,
Beatings, hunger,
Begging for a piece of bread,
Each one for himself,
Survive we must, they say…
Koach!
Don’t know how... I am too frail…I cannot live!!
They march them off, twice a day,
Massacre…
Gas chambers,
No one returns…
Selections!
Will I be next?
Burning pollutes the air,
Foul smell of human flesh!
I cannot breathe…
Whispers all around me,
Hushed cries in the night,
Prayers –
Sleep, can I sleep?
Perhaps tomorrow it will end…
My lofty dream of sunshine,
Butterflies and… Bread.
* * *
He stood beside my bunk,
Bent over me, lovingly and calm.
Today, forever, I will remember his face...
The old man,
His beard white and long…kind eyes beseeching:
"Get up my child," with tears he murmured,
"Get up…do NOT let go!"
"Fight to live…
Pray and believe!!
You are strong,
You are young…
Hashem will give you strength…Ani Maamin!
Who was he???
Was he G-D???
Weary, lost; body filthy,
Racked with pain and lice,
Humiliated, tortured, dehumanized,
Angst-ridden, beyond suffering…
Nothing for me but death and despair…
What more can I endure?
How long???
I cannot!
G-D, forgive me...
I want to die...
What to live for?
GET UP!
I hear his voice…
Get UP!
Is now the time to die?
I am 15, just 15!!
No!
No!
No!!!
I want to live...
G-D, I beg you, let me live!
I want to live!!!
At dawn they came to free us...
I have survived!!!
April 28. 2003
Holocaust Memorial Day Temple Beit Ami Boca Raton, Florida
These dreams haunt my life – this poem represents excerpts of my Mother’s stories after spending four and half years in the Bergen Belsen concentration camp.
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