If Not, Not: Inspired By R.B.Kitaji's Painting Of That Name Poem by Sheena Blackhall

In the painting, there are the palms of paradise,
Off to the right, out of reach the promised land
And cool Shiloam's shady rill

No passports let them leave
Nor let them enter
If not, why not?

Under the beating sun
A waste land leads to hell, via the Gates at Auschwitz
No shelter from the trees
No water, no food, no hope
No mercy under the stony jackboot of murder

Now, dandelions break through the iron tracks
That led to the crematoria
Everywhere, fine grey ash clings to your shoes
It walks away with you…children, rabbis, mothers
Musicians, traders, dreamers, lovers, scientists

In the wind, you breathe it in
The sediment of murdered generations

The sap of whole communities
Sucked by the horrid mouth of genocide
Remains spat out to profit Nazis' pockets

No passports let them leave
Nor let them enter
If not, why not?
Where was compassion, where was empathy?