in the attic
of my mind
a darkening box
labeled belsen
why it interests me
i do not know
but i know
the click and clack of rails and
the heavy sigh of helplessness
of all the stations connected
and the round faced clocks
and ticket makers in peaked caps
of ticks and tocks and visions
of Victoria dying in the arms
of a kaiser, of my mother in mine,
of kaki helpers
constructing camps
and millions murdered
and others loved
persons
in life
and death
singular
solitary
alone and
each
a universe
a gift
to be
or snuffed
by ignorance
or greed
or abuse
of power
so i ponder.
what have i helped?
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