Smother the Seed with the Guilt of Death


Your mind collects the memories
like an hour glass’s mound of sand
warning the end is near
as your toes tap the surface
of a carpet cold and callous as tile.
It is not fear, but relief you think that engulfs the eyes of these women around you,
well perhaps the youngest waits in fear,
clutching her slightly buldging stomach
as she takes in each impatient frown
after impatient sigh, after impatient
shift in these Jewish chairs,
and then your name is called
to be carted off to the showers
where they strip you bare,
they tell you to breath in
through your nose, out through your mouth
like a sprinter racing for the gold.
you are merely fighting for relief
like the Nazis taking the lives
of those they saw not fit to share that air
you breath in so deeply.
You still feel it now, filling your lungs so sweetly-
Is it any less painful now?
Can you bare it?
When your shit and your sheets are stained
with blood from the life you stole- is it worth it?
If you can stand to watch your face
recognize the reflection in the mirror mornings after,
finally sleeping soundly for even one night
uninterupted by panic, by guilt.
Is even one morning worth the taste of freedom
if you were not the giver but taker of life

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