Mein Kampf!

Nearly all the teeth are gone, some coveted for their gold, others yellowed

with age & still attached to jaw bones, residing in mouths that no longer speak

or pray or scream. Those were the lucky ones. They became too old

for the benevolence of the Fairy, too young to fossilize, too strong

to succumb to gravity or the hazards of kruszchyki or rugelach or hamantaschen.

There were millions who left us so soon – their rib cages threatening to poke

straight through the paper thin skin, their eye sockets like tunnels to death.

Some became soap, some lampshades. The lucky young ones with hair like sun and eyes

like skies became Himmler’s Lebensborn dollies, and for them the future echoed with “Why?

Who am I? Why me?” Perhaps someday a god will answer. Perhaps someday a goddess

will spill her tears and the ones who lived can rest in peace. There is no peace

for those of us who now write history with a fading tattoo but remember. Should we choose

to forget and men who would be painters instead chase the applause

afforded the sociopath, the accolades for the clever tyrant, uncovering yet another rune

to woo you, then the bones of the dead will beat on your brow

and beseech you, L’Chaim! L’Chaim! Mein Kampf ist euer Kampf, lass uns leben!

To Life! To Life! My struggle is your struggle, let us live!

© Tina Zabielski 2011-2019


About theminstrelscitadel

In search of courageous souls who aren't afraid to dig a little deeper and have a conversation about all manner of things. Rant, rave, debate, discuss... let's do it!
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