Homo Sum Poem by Mark Sauer

The arson ash of Troy besmears my hand;
My arm aches from pounding nails in a cross;
Bored, I stomp numbed feet as I stand
Watch over kapo Jews, whilst they toss
Human logs in the fire. I warm my face
In the oven glow of orange flesh and bones,
Remembering; bayonets in driving ice
At Eylau; dashing infants' brains on stones
In Ninevah; that dead-eyed virgin I raped
In sacked Jerusalem; martyrs aflame.
It was not God who made the womb a gate
To a slaughterhouse. Mine is the blame.
Alas, I am full of humanity.
Nothing of Man is alien to me.