FelixA Poem by Allegra PescatoreSaying goodbye to a whole life. How I imagine my grandfather left Germany.
His life in two garbage bags, Packed neatly away in the back of the car. He had so little, Gave so much. “Your Grandfather,” My mother would say “Had many secrets,” I can still picture him in my mind’s eye His smile, wide as the sky, As I sat on his lap, And played with the rings On his fingers at age five. And I can imagine him: Shivering on the docks, Smog choking the air. His mother holds his ten-year-old hand, With her gloved one. The six-pointed stars on their chests, Mirror each other, The only thing alive And vibrant that day. He is crying, Little Felix Oppenheimer, His mother is not. He looks up at her, From under, The brim of his cap, And asks, “Do I have to go?” His mother bends down, And with steady hands, Rips the star from his chest, Tossing it to the ground. There is no going back, He must go alone, The only one of them To get out. Thirteen pairs of shoes, then twelve, Lined up by the door of his house In Berlin. Only one pair of shoes Not taken From dead feet In the Camps. Five dollars and a kiss On the dock Of his homeland, And the hope, Of one day, Another kiss. A hope unfulfilled As the boat pulls away And with tears in his eyes, Little Felix looks back, And yells, “Aufwedersen Mutti, Ich Liebe dich,” And he cries, But his mother does not. She cannot cry For the one who survived When her other ten children Will die © 2012 Allegra PescatoreFeatured Review
Reviews
|
Advertise Here
Want to advertise here? Get started for as little as $5 Stats
1615 Views
33 Reviews Shelved in 1 Library
Added on November 12, 2009Last Updated on October 12, 2012 Author
Related WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
|