Man’s Search for Meaning


I am number 119104

Moses told me to stay, his word echoing across centuries

Honor thy father and thy mother, declared the stone words-which,

Eternal; prophesied my long days on earth.

We, humans, departed, carted, from possessions parted

To hell by another name not so sweet, Auschwitz

We were concentrated-crammed into tiny train cars headed to concentration camps

Lined, searched and stripped—then teased and stripped naked,

The only relief the water pouring from the faucets as we stand completely naked

Our friends are smoke, bitter acrid acid smoke floating to the “Heavens,

Smoke is death and death is cigarette smoke floating to the heavens.

We, blank, battered, broken, beaten by baseless banalities-

Life meant nothing, corpses are gory rag dolls unwanted

Dragged bump bumping on the cold earth, earth so cold that we are numb,

Toes blackened, no scream as gangrenous black toes are torn

I am number 119104


Human no longer, but masses of bodies clumped nine to a wooden pallet

Shaking in nightmarish throes because it is better to live in a nightmare than wake,

To the living hell, our skeletal bodies clicking and clacking caricatures of death coming closer

Psychics all we could see death, coming closer. Nothing mattered, nothing but preservation

Of self, even biting bloodied lips to hold in bloody laughter as the bloody Capo conjures pathetic poetry

We, baser creatures, dropped into hellish nightmares break, but not all for

Et Lux In Tenebris Lucet-and light shines in the darkness and so fated,

We, cows, cowed by constant callousness head to Dachau aboard a train

Each straining to glimpse a future through small windows, I strain to see my home in flashes

Seeking salvation but the words beat me back and the past is swept away

But we dance, for the train is not headed to slaughter and we will not die today

Et Lux in Tenebris Lucet- light shines in the darkness


But even battered, broken, beaten there is still beauty.

For, we said “how beautiful the world could be” when blessed

With a solemn sunset splattering the red blood, blue veins,

 purpled bruises and angry black hate across the skies

like some maddened painter splashed us across the skies.

“How beautiful the world could be…

Be my wife, I remember asking her to be, to say I do,

I due to death but no longer as she rescued me

Giving me life and reason though her life is uncertain

We commune as one and my wife and I are become one

She is my tree of life, giving me the courage to face the world

Like the dying woman smiling silent tears streaming as she goes,

Her only friend her hallucination in which the tree talks


Doctors of death, dealing in denial we can’t escape our patients

Patiently planned escape not fated but ended with rotten potatoes

not freedom, but freedom found bound within barbed wire confinement

Suffering acquiring meaning and life becoming purposed, fated

No longer disease wracked suicidal starvation but rather sacrifice,

Bleeding heart no longer numbed but raw, reality rapidly realized

Endless hate in sadistic flesh sacs, demons walking in flesh of capos

Brothers in race but venomous snakes measured against momentary

Kindness in soup from the bottom or saved morsels of bread broken

The very best of us did not survive.



Then suddenly, Freedom.


Faltering steps through fields of flowers…


But slowly we wake wondrously to reality,

The nightmare is over for most,

No more “Soup from the bottom please”

Or “Attention, Attention” and alarms

No more death smoke rising silently

I step, after faltering step

Through a field of flowers and fall.

“I called to the Lord from my narrow prison and he answered me in the freedom of space”

“I called to the Lord from my narrow prison and he answered me in the freedom of space”

“I called to the Lord from my narrow prison and he answered me in the freedom of space”

I am human again.

Subspecies aeternitas.

The future has finally arrived.






My Eyes have Seen Truth by Christina W


Winters have come and gone,

Yet we still feel the cold

Lingering in our bones.
The heartache remains

After each painful memory inspires the Truth;
We see the world for what it really is…

The world is transformed

Through our souls’ intellect.

Each witnessing from our own eyes:

Our own truth.


Close your eyes and picture anything
Create your own beauty

Inspire dreams that have not been dreamt,

Allow yourself to learn from life’s presence,
For each moment that flutters by

We evolve from our current mystery.

Daily we find a stranger in our skin

But with a familiar texture.

Through the pain I felt;

Through the hope I believed;

Through the joy that rattled inside,

I know life has transpired

I know that I no longer am

Completely who I was.


But to uncover our Truth

We can dance with the bird songs

And for a moment’s time,

Feel the rhythm beneath our feet.

So sing with the rustic chimes,

And shout to the world your Truth!

So as each Winter comes in

I anchor my roots in this harsh ground
Then, brace myself for the chill

I know deep within;

I will always conquer the winter
And push forth as Spring returns.
I will be renewed

And blossom into someone wiser, braver.
My eyes have witnessed Truth

My Little Fairy


The swing creaks in the empty blackness,

dark coils drowning into the darkness

as her head is flung back in joy


a broken doll, used hard by life

she flings herself into the air,

the swing whispering soft music

as she freezes in the moonlight,

hidden scars illuminated,

her fairy wings glowing dimly


she laughs then, a ringing melody

of sound that rolls through the woods,

makes the trees cry for their little lost fairy

dancing through in the darkness

her jade eyes deep pools of experience

blue sadness coalesced.


a fairy princess, overflowing with other

shackled by heavy doubts, she swings

back and forth through the darkness,

afraid to live but not afraid to give


her broken heart brimming with life

she nurtures spirits and shines candle light

for the lost souls wandering her woods

trapped in mazes of their own making


one day she too will walk the maze

break free from the lonesome darkness

and remember who she is meant to be

not a fairy princess overflowing with other

but an angel, a shining symbol of hope

Destined to Fly


She is a hawk, fierce and proud and free.

Light as air but her gaze is heavy.

Plumage perfect, the sunlight seeing

the subtle selection of her colors.

Her wings, long and graceful—


But clipped.


Flight feathers torn by invisible ghosts.

Body chained by devilish doubts,

that send her crashing down.  

Each time she leaps and drowns,

sinking, sinking, sinking.


Bruised brittle bones threaten to break

but she struggles and falls, and then again

never stopping, always leaping, reaching

slowly building faith, until finally—

the chains break, the heavy doubt, dust

her earthly prison no more


She is a hawk, proud and free

Born destined to fly