Resurrection Of Moshe Gimp Poem by John F. McCullagh

The Einsatzgrupen rounded up
the Juden of SWIEBODZIN.
They first led out the men and boys
The younger children crying.
The Germans forced us to disrobe,
I saw my Father naked.
We faced a pit dug in the ground
then began the murder.

My father pushed me to the ground
as machine gun fire raked the line.
I found myself beneath the pile
of the bleeding, dead and dying.
A single gunshot here and there
They finished all who moved.
But I played dead convincingly
My Dad would have approved.
When the Germans tossed in lime and dirt
I didn’t make a sound.
There was air, foul, but fit to breathe,
beneath the earthen mound.
I listened till I could be sure
The assassins all had gone.
I struggled up toward the light
past the bleeding, dead and gone.
Once clear I raced towards the woods
to find a place to hide.
By grace of G-d, a righteous man
For pity, took my side.
With fake name and faked papers
I made it through alive.
Now I am here, Moshe Gimp
To speak for all who died