standing in a museum
at the edge of pain -
that deep well of dark
that hides so well,
and has tattered edges
that threaten to crumble -
all metaphorically, of course -
a mountain of suitcases,
all that was left of some
ghosts of Auschwitz or Dachau;
Treblinka, perhaps,
or some other abyss
of unallegorical
non-metaphorical pain.
A reminder,
a quiet chant:
Never Again.
So you'll excuse me, I pray,
my reaction today
from all of those shoes
laid out so neatly,
in all those very straight lines:
empty,
lifeless,
as lifeless as luggage,
an abyss of pain.
A reminder
silent accusation:
The journey continues.
The march must go on.
Not one more shoe
Not ever again.
Never again is Now.
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