She was a kid, when the
war broke up. A teen, only just
discovering life. Falling in love for
the very first time. Recognizing in her
high school sweetheart her future husband, the father of her children. It was a special time, a happy time. The war was somewhere far, far away, in a
distant land. It loomed there to catch
up with her later.
All her adult life
she has been carrying the burden of almost personal guilt for what happened to
the world then. She – who has not ever
hurt anybody – feels deeply responsible for the atrocities committed against
people. She is not a Jew, but she goes
to church to commemorate the Holocaust, to pray for the slaughtered millions,
to pray for us.
Her memory was not tainted
by war. It was pure and untouched, like
the freshly fallen snow. She wanted to
remember. She filled her memory with
ugly things that did not belong: mountains of human flesh, Auschwitz barbed
wire that makes her heart bleed.
Always
pray for forgiveness. Never forget. Never.
Live for the Love of it,
The Happy Amateur
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