This was a very difficult poem to write. This version is at least the fourth major rewrite, not counting minor edits.
The "video" is a soundtrack of me reading the poem accompanied by a still picture.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Even from behind the glass
you can smell the chemical
that keeps the moths away.
A vast mound of matted sheep’s wool
you would say, except (they assure you)
it is original, all two tons of it,
the human hair that was left
unused at the end.
The rest went for socks
to keep workers’ feet warm.
All grey now, sixty years on, it has aged
as those that owned it never did.
They went naked to the shower room,
clutching the soap
they would never use,
and then to the ovens.
A lorry’s engine drowned the screams,
and the Governor’s wife tended her flowers,
making a garden “like paradise.”
What a beautifully spoken poem Paul and how terribly terribly sad. Man's inhumanity to his fellow man is incomprehensible. This is a wonderful tribute to those that died and a great way to keep their memory alive. One of the best I have found on PF.... Pat