Pinkas Synagogue Poem by Tom Billsborough
Pinkas Synagogue
They had no sanctuary but this.
We pass into the rooms where every wall
Is etched with names, their dates of birth and death,
The latter closely packed in time
As the old graves in the nearby cemetery.
Surnames and initials red as blood,
The rest in black to symbolize their cruel end
Which brought their memories to this place of rest.
So many individual names, so many families,
None obliterates despite the 'Last Solution'.
Without the walls, the statues too,
Three children crouched in terror,
Writhing men like skeletons reaching out in hunger,
Recall my impotence and anger.
Dear people, my brothers and my sisters,
Carted off like cattle to the Auschwitz abattoir.
I see them hover there in regimented lines
Between fain hope and deep despair,
Hearing the seductive sounds of the conscript orchestra.
As those about to die recall
The mocking irony of 'Arbeit mach frei'.
No, no, what makes us free is true respect
For a neighbour's faith, his colour and his race,
To offer sanctuary to those displaced by war or famine.
That's what makes us free and truly human.
the Pinkas Synagogue where there is a simple but very moving memorial to the many thousands of Bohemian and Moravian Jews who perished in the holocaust. Let us never forget these people.
So well written, thank you. My mind is occupied by the question, HOW could their jailers and wardens sink so low to imprison and suppress other people? The answer is even more horrifying: They could only do so because their own emotional troubles deadened their sensitivities. Remember the prison commanders and let us never forget that emotional insensitivity and confusion is too dangerous to allow to fester.
Some of those experiment in the States where groups of students were split into two groups, warders and prisoners, were truly horrifying. And there were also experiments with people believing they were giving others electric shock treatment. It is truly shocking to realise how many automatically obey authority. Factual violence on Television News programme can also desensitize. I agree with you that we cannot allow these things to fester. Thank you for your comments. Many regards Tom
you've spotted a typo. It should be writhing. I'll speak to Gladys about this. I might even give her a good spanking if she pays, that is! Her Gin ration will be reviewed once again!
(cont.) ...the telling of your story is appreciated. BUT it makes me recall this which i heard somewhere: What hath God wrought*****? what indeed! ! ! ! no wonder i don't believe in God! ***** What hath God wrought is a phrase from the Book of Numbers (Numbers 23: 23) bri :) : (
(cont.) ..Arbeit macht frei (German pronunciation: [ˈaɐ̯baɪt ˈmaxt ˈfʁaɪ]) is a German phrase meaning work sets you free. The slogan is known for appearing on the entrance of Auschwitz and other concentration camps...TOM, N.B. 'Google's'.... macht vs. your mach. hmm? (cont) ....
(cont.) ..some 'favorite' (but somewhat horrid, also) lines: Hearing the seductive sounds of the conscript orchestra. As those about to die recall The mocking irony of 'Arbeit mach frei'.**** (cont.) ..
writing men or writhing men or writhing writing men? fain*** hope? .....i'm not sure. i guess some would be willing to 'hold out hope', perhaps if they were true believers in God and/or Mankind (the 'good' part of Mankind) *** fain fān/ archaic adjective 1.pleased or willing under the circumstances..........to MyPoemList. (cont.)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 10:40:16 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Ah, Tom. Auschwitz sits deeply with me. I was there in October and it was cold enough to imagine how it was for them in their cotton pyjamas etc. The place was crawling with people who kept their silence. Coaches full of school children struck dumb by the horror of the story. No, we should never, never forget. It wasn't human. Thankyou for posting this well written piece Tom.