As I died... A bony hand reaching for one last friend as we are marched to the final chambers of Buchenwald... Or as one who once laughed Falling to the sand Chasing seagulls on a summer day... And who later learned to shed a tear for such a long lost love.
And how shall I be known?
As one who perished with worms eating at pussed rimmed sores, caught in the spreading net of the pox plague too weak to crawl to a fouled dying stream for water. Or one who felt the caress of a lovers hand on my breast? Who kissed the wind and knew what it was to ride the wings of an eagle and watch the miracle of life and birth.
And how do you see me?
As one who knew what it was to nurse a baby with my nipple's milk, to watch a son grow strong, and learn to laugh with each stumbling step overcome,
Or is it through the memory of incineration at Hiroshima's hellish breath?
And me...
Do you know me for my love of poetry, of words that defy the rhymes of reasoned thought and yearn for the freedom of transcendent verse. Or am I known for the nightmare of my sleep as cold winds shoot through cracked walls and mortars rain from mountain crests and my children die in crumbling unfed hospital beds.
And how will I be remembered?
For this threnody of death or for my song of life?
