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| "Holocaust Memorial" © 2016 David Prashker |
Everything ended and began with trains...
night journeys into the kingdom of the dead
accompanied only by the dead of night
eastward journeys
westward journeys
journeys of the camel trains from Ur Kasdim
journeys of the cattle trains to Oswiecim
the bridal train of the Shechinah
derailed in the sidings at Treblinka
the ladder of my own journeys
westwards
inwards
eastwards
inwards
forwards
inwards
backwards
inwards
ever
further
deeper
inwards...
climbing to the very bowels of Hell
*
So I returned to hope and exile
And the gate opened
revealing what lay hidden:
accompanied only by the dead of night
eastward journeys
westward journeys
journeys of the camel trains from Ur Kasdim
journeys of the cattle trains to Oswiecim
the bridal train of the Shechinah
derailed in the sidings at Treblinka
the ladder of my own journeys
westwards
inwards
eastwards
inwards
forwards
inwards
backwards
inwards
ever
further
deeper
inwards...
climbing to the very bowels of Hell
*
So I returned to hope and exile
And the gate opened
revealing what lay hidden:
the fallen cedars of my father’s mansion
a lilac pollarded by tears
the stone pillars that were reduced to ashes
the cobwebs lying heavy on the chandeliers
An entire forest of webs enmeshed the eternity
of ThoughtWordCultureFeeling
which was my father’s library...
But this was only part of it
these were only the superficial facts of devastation
a lilac pollarded by tears
the stone pillars that were reduced to ashes
the cobwebs lying heavy on the chandeliers
An entire forest of webs enmeshed the eternity
of ThoughtWordCultureFeeling
which was my father’s library...
But this was only part of it
these were only the superficial facts of devastation
What was less obvious
invisible to the naked human eye:
a set of roof tiles, stacked against the barn wall
a timber ladder, with three of its rungs broken
a volume of Rashi, straddling the ruins of a bonfire
a silver candlestick, quite simply vanished
a yellow photograph, now turned completely purple
an untended grave, smelling faintly of urine
a dead snake, clubbed to death in the marshes
a bust of Schiller, sold or stolen...
(this fragment continues with "Before we ever came...")
You can find David Prashker at:
http://theargamanpress.com/
http://davidprashker.com/
http://davidprashker.net/
https://www.facebook.com/TheArgamanPress
http://davidprashkersprivatecollection.blogspot.com
http://davidprashkerssongsandpoems.blogspot.com
http://davidprashkersartgallery.blogspot.com
http://davidprashkersworldhourglass.blogspot.co.uk/
http://davidprashkersbookofdays.blogspot.co.uk/
http://thebiblenet.blogspot.co.uk/
invisible to the naked human eye:
a set of roof tiles, stacked against the barn wall
a timber ladder, with three of its rungs broken
a volume of Rashi, straddling the ruins of a bonfire
a silver candlestick, quite simply vanished
a yellow photograph, now turned completely purple
an untended grave, smelling faintly of urine
a dead snake, clubbed to death in the marshes
a bust of Schiller, sold or stolen...
(this fragment continues with "Before we ever came...")
You can find David Prashker at:
http://theargamanpress.com/
http://davidprashker.com/
http://davidprashker.net/
https://www.facebook.com/TheArgamanPress
http://davidprashkersprivatecollection.blogspot.com
http://davidprashkerssongsandpoems.blogspot.com
http://davidprashkersartgallery.blogspot.com
http://davidprashkersworldhourglass.blogspot.co.uk/
http://davidprashkersbookofdays.blogspot.co.uk/
http://thebiblenet.blogspot.co.uk/
Copyright © 2016 David Prashker
All rights reserved
The Argaman Press
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