NOT TO REASON WHY
Following Holocaust Memorial day I thought it appropriate to post this poem.
I was 16 when I first saw the newsreels of the liberation of Belsen and I had difficulty in relating what I saw with the world around me. For a long time I thought that the people who carried out the necessary labour of the slaughter-houses must be monsters. Eventually I realised that we all carry the potentiality of behaving as they did. Who amongst us can claim to have never felt afraid of being different, afraid of standing out from the crowd or apprehensive or subservient to authority? What worries me is that given the situation that existed then I would not have been able to resist, and so, I made this attempt to express this concern.
NOT TO REASON WHY
at
TREBLINKA
Yes, that was me,
I typed the lists,
Who were for the labour camps
Who was dispensable,
Not me, I made the lists.
Was that you in the office next door?
at
CHELMO
That was me
Herding the crowd onto the trucks
drying the tears of that young girl
before bolting the doors.
Was that you shouting?
at
LUBLIN
That was me,
Splitting the families with promises
of a happy reunion, and a rifle butt
The healthy to the left
the rest to the bath-house
Was that you retching?
at
DACHAU
Taking my pick of the women,
Bribing them with food
and the promise of life,
for a while.
Was that you playing with the children?
at
BELZEC
Yes, that was me
logistics officer
in charge of supplies
drums of fuel, gas-cylinders,
mechanical diggers
whatever was needed.
Was that you watching me?
at
AUSCHWITZ-BIRKENAU
Yes that was me
Tipping the canisters through the trap
doing my job
keeping us safe.
Scared shitless at the thought
of losing my little Anna.
Was that you in the last batch through?
Shouting as the doors closed;-
‘TEACH THE CHILDREN TO DISOBEY!’
Was that you?
