Beautiful
a girl age 17- on a death train they say this is a death train. they say we will be killed as soon as the train stops. they say anyone who jumps will be shot. they say a lot of things. but as i look around the car- people crammed together sweaty and dirty and scared we stand together trembling wondering- should we take the chance of being shot? i think it may be worth it. maybe. - - - - - - - - - - - - - i grab my brother’s hand and take the plunge, hitting the ground violently. shots are fired shrieks are heard long grass grazes my hands my legs my face i laid in the brush trying not to scream. once the train rolls away down the track i look up. my brother lies on the hillside not more than five feet away. a bloody hole is gashed into his chest his face is still. i crawl over to the figure that is no, that was my brother tears are streaming down my face onto his cold unmoving silent face. never to laugh again smile again never ever to be my brother again. this time, i do not suppress the scream. i let it out, for all the world to hear my anguish my grief. in that moment, despite the chasm gorged into his chest at the end of which i’m sure a bullet lies, despite the smattering of blood that covers his pale frame, despite the distorted limbs that come out at jagged angles, despite all this, he is my brother. he is beautiful.
a boy age 13- watching his synagogue being burned to the ground by nazis during kristallnacht nearly four months ago, it was my birthday. i had my bar mitzvah. there was a party, and we all celebrated. now, i look at the place where this all happened not more than four months ago. the temple our synagogue is now engulfed in flames red orange yellow blue fire consumes the structure. now, our holy place lies in ruin. stained glass -it was once a mural- is scattered in the street crushed underfoot by people running hiding escaping trying to break free from the nightmare. the mortar between the brick crumbles. a wall collapses. my synagogue my temple is destroyed. the glowing embers lying on the filthy ground are ghastly. a reminder of what once was here but is no more. yet, somehow, amidst the wreckage, those scattered ashes that were my sanctuary are still terribly beautiful.
a nazi officer- watching his men invoke the horrors of kristallnacht upon their victims i look at the broken glass the windows shattered shop fronts destroyed. and i feel pleasure sheer satisfaction seeping in through my skin. the swastika on my chest the red spider of glory it glows with happiness to see this horrific scene complete annihilation. it gladdens me to know that these monsters jews gypsies cripples gays will be wiped out and our country will be strong once more. such a beautiful vision. heil, hitler. such a beautiful phrase.
a girl age 7- watching her papa, a nazi, be glad at all of the horror around her during kristallnacht papa says our country can be purified wiped clean if only the jews would leave. he says that’s why he shatters glass breaks windows and destroys temples. "they must be driven out," he says. he says it will be beautiful. a world without problems a world full of only good things. "like what?" i ask. "just . . . good things," he says. "better things." i look around at the cobblestones stained with blood covered in glass so shiny, it looks like ice. ice, dyed crimson with blood. beautiful? no. it doesn’t look so beautiful to me. |