On a trip to the Muzeum Stutthof,
I had a holocaust of emotions,
images of brutality and chaos,
when I looked upon the headstones
of several family members.
They died inside a concentration camp,
barbed wire strung along its edges,
cries echoed in silence,
burnt memories at the altar,
where smoke billowed
from the pages of Shakespeare
I saw the store windows broken,
loss and denigration,
humiliation at the heels
of Fascist boots and gun barrels,
skeletons stacked like pyramids,
hair and gold teeth placed neatly in piles,
bones and ligaments,
hung like meat from deli windows.
It was a world of annihilation,
that history has yet to answer.
An army of distorted glory,
whose crooked cross is etched in our memory,
even when the killing stopped in 1945,
the suffering has never ended.
Mark Tulin is a retired therapist from California. Mark's books include Magical Yogis, Awkward Grace, The Asthmatic Kid and Other Stories, Junkyard Souls, Rain on Cabrillo, and Uncommon Love Poems. He's featured in Cafe Lit Magazine, Still Point Journal, The Opiate, The Haight Ashbury Literary Journal, Amethyst Review, Vita Brevis Press, White Enso, WryTimes, and Red Wolf Editions. He is a Pushcart nominee and a Best of Drabble.