In Memoriam of a Broken Family

Remembered the 1940s, the season of the holocaust. Six million irons, disjointed from their ores Were forged in bottomless pits of anvils. The swarming bees in a ceremonious buzzing Were uncoupled from their hives through Reichsbahn. However, a tensed, stale wind of discord swivel On the creeks of Dachau, Auschwitz, Treblinka And other shores of darkness. Never shall the bloody sky efface again The innocent faces of seedlings in chains Suddenly transformed into smoke under a silent sky. For not four thousand micrographic scrolls Of antique Pharaoh, hieroglyphics could symbolize The petrifying carrions glutted by black vultures. Two rivers parted by mountainous fiend In no time of twilight Laid eyes into the seas. Two branches glued to tree trunks Would in a bit of an eyelid See those white balloons. The mockingbird is set among the pigeons And doors of golden rainbows Crept in the fog. Everywhere, the white dove’s skull Is at the bottom of the picture While the frogs and wasps play their lyres. But, the wild hyacinths grew among Linden The lion; among hummingbirds With every twist, Lynx's eyes.