His name was Jacemo,
later anglicised to Jack.
A nondescript little man
distinguishable only by
the tattooed numbers on
his forearm.
He came with nothing
and left with even less.
Save a scribbled note
in Yiddish that read:
'Please, will some kind
person say Kaddish for me? '
(To the memory of the
Jacemo's who didn't survive.)
A poignant expression of a Jewish heritage. Beautifully expressed. love, Allie xxxx
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
That's beautiful... Sad, but we need to remember. Maybe we are on the edge of another create divide. Dan Hanosh Dreams Are Yours To Share