Monday, October 31

What Rose From the Ash of Oswiecim

Here we are...lining up waiting for the buses. I can't help but note how here we wait in a fashion similar to those who waited  for the trains to Auschwitz.

Halloween morning 8:22 AM 2011.

Train after train after train transporting humans. Imagine, your younger brother who wants to be just like you, your older sister who tells you your going to make an amazing dad, your favorite aunt who takes you and your friends to cool places, the uncle who bought you a football for your birthday, your tenderhearted grandmother, frail and old now - YOU.

As we drive towards the west, moving closer and closer towards the resting place of too many. A place of burning flesh. Pillows made out of human hair.

How could one know such things?

Every time the bus driver lets up his feet off the pedal, my heart drops a little in anticipation of our arrival.

They thought they were going to a new home. Little did they know that home would be a crematorium.

And just as we arrive at the Center for Peace and Dialogue, here to welcome us are the crows, drops of rain and moving passenger trains