Living Memorial

A poem by Maya Kaye

Written on 3/17/2024 as a reflection on witnessing sites of the Shoah in Poland.

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to bear witness is to feel 

the weight of unwritten novels

piled upon your chest; 

and your skin crawl away

circumventing the tough of light;

and you are there,

exposed in the cold achromatic sun,

as the ground trembles in your presence 

(against all odds).

you are a living memorial.

you are a testimony of all testimonies

that survived time and fire. 

you are the name bearer

of truths blurred in greyscale

and the fate of tomorrow’s hope. 

you count your miracles

but you do not pencil a silver lining 

around the failure of compassion. 

you recognize the obligation 

to use your voice 

and not be passive

to the cruel flick of the world’s wrist

and the ramblings of the cyclops.

you are a lion of steady knees 

who knows history is not compromisable,

and that your origins are not relative. 

you are the opposite of a graveyard 

in the way your DNA spirals so marvelously

to light your great

great grandfather’s eyes 

as candles in the window 

upon cheeks flushed with 

a brilliant bloodline. 

you know every cell in your body 

is layed down in infinite purpose 

brick by brick 

milestone by milestone

these are the chronicles of life 

we were all designed for 

and all deserve.

you are the embodiment of everything

they sought to destroy. 

everything the world 

excused from the rendering.

and everything

your ancestors lived for. 

they would be so proud

to see you standing here 

in this house

built of one another,

held up by Hatikva,

grappling at the deeds of humanity,

and feeling it all so deeply. 

they are here. 

and to ensure it is never 

again a silent world,

Shema still oscillates 

off their final breath. 

to bear witness is to feel

it resonate through you.