These are Holocaust poems and translations by Michael R. Burch.
Epitaph for a Child of the Holocaust
by Michael R. Burch
I lived as best I could, and then I died.
Be careful where you step: the grave is wide.
......
Don’t smile with me if you don’t want to
Because I am not a mirror
Don’t be like a bluffer who gives me a black smile
A strange, nervous and abnormal smile
Because I am not a josher
Show me the genuine emotions of you
Give me something normal or natural
I am not asking for anything special
Just be yourself and I will appreciate it
Don’t give something unusual and vile
......
The room has been struck by silence,
Yet we cannot hear each other speak.
Scanty as it may seem
Our eyes cannot see our fellow men,
Outcastes by the shades of colours.
Overwhelmed by the drum beats of war.
For every one man is a niche,
Outside of which lies his enemy.
......
I love only my kind.
But a world of just
your kind would to
monotony consign you.
I celebrate just my kind.
But a world that celebrates
only you, would to the utter
depths of boredom relegate you.
......
When, long ago, the gods created Earth
In Jove's fair image Man was shaped at birth.
The beasts for lesser parts were next designed;
Yet were they too remote from humankind.
To fill the gap, and join the rest to Man,
Th'Olympian host conceiv'd a clever plan.
A beast they wrought, in semi-human figure,
Filled it with vice, and called the thing a Nigger.
Machete salutations sweat
The rims of blades.
Sparks sprinkle fire-spittle
On the confused breath of hostile fumes
Branded Death.
Brines grow on festered fringes
Dappled with pestle-prints of
Silence,
Yet Death is borne on yawning.
......
These are Holocaust poems and translations by Michael R. Burch.
Epitaph for a Child of the Holocaust
by Michael R. Burch
I lived as best I could, and then I died.
Be careful where you step: the grave is wide.
......
These are Holocaust poems and translations by Michael R. Burch.
Something
by Michael R. Burch
for the children of the Holocaust
Something inescapable is lost—
......
Broken glass shattered on open floor,
Glass thrown out the door.
Broken glass that breaks more the lighter you tread,
Glass that doesn’t fit society’s dress.
Broken gelass,
Broken glass that people admire like art,
Glass with pieces made to be scattered apart.
Broken glass that longs to be whole,
Being black is being born into a broken mould.
All of us should know by now that there’s one race:
The Human Race. Narcissism and nepotism
Are destroying the very febrile fibers of our society
Greed and narrow-mindedness, at an increasing space
Are eroding our soil like mites devouring the mechanism
Of our ingenuity. This is odious. What a sad and sorry pity!
Freedom is about being at liberty to do things on our own
Freedom is about being in control of our destiny
Freedom is about using our God-given talent to be
And to do whatever inspires us at dust, at dawn
......