Remnants of my Uncle Jacob’s finer days
when, with my father and I trailing behind
we would make off to Wannsee,
spend the afternoon poking its Surface
with lines to which I hooked squirmy insects
meeting their soggy fate
in the gaping mouths of carp
Uncle Jacob had shown me how to fasten
the fleshy beasts, he used to say:
“With your small hands you should out-fasten
me very quickly!”, I never did.
Uncle Jacob had the largest palms I’d ever seen,
his fingers in comparison were thin and very long,
I imagined it was those spindly fingers
which fastened diamonds so nicely,
the large palm a secure surface
to hold them, assess their brilliance
without letting them drop into the dust
of precious metal and wood powder
He was such a Giant
Nothing worried him,
half his size, my Father knew better
the Black and Silver Cross
appearing Everywhere
foreshadowed an Evil
Never before Seen
Uncle Jacob wouldn’t listen, I did,
even the Trees seemed menacing
the Carp too hungry, the Water too green,
What would become of us, Where should we go?
Such a vivid account Keren. I was there with you experiencing every emotion along the way….
Kiki, I love you in your poems ,I don’t always tell you how beautifully right they are .It is a wonderful connection through words and idea, reality and parallel worlds, ratio and feelings and with all that, the music! The fishing rods and the same fate :insect,carp and man!…….,love.
Merci Suzanne, venant de toi cela me touche beaucoup. J’ai pense a toi en postant ce poem, a toi et tous ceux qui ont survécu Kristallnacht.
What a vivid and disturbing and beautiful picture you paint.
Thank you Melissa!