This is dedicated to the author Eliezar Wiesel, who was a survivor of the Holocaust, and who wrote many excellent books on the subject.

It was a terrible accident, they said.
The taxi, screaming like a beast of prey,
crushed me, triumphant, to the earth.
I'm lucky to be alive, they said.

Insignificant words, all meaningless.
Just let me be.
Let me slip into my own insanity,
and wallow through black memories

(...men like cattle in great numbers drilled in human flesh seared livid and red-tinged smoke from sullen stacks of men, women and children ravished by men...)

Down, down to a darker spot.
There.
A burning secretly revered:
the image of that speeding cab
my own hands upon the wheel.

[ 09-24-2002 06:59 AM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

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