"Why?” I asked,
Shaking my head
With outstretched arms.
Poor Kurt did
A pantomime
To let me know
His feet were itchy
And he wanted
A change of scenery.
He took a bowl
I was drying
From my hands
And seemed
To show me
I could help people
In the big city.
The Fathers
Had inspired
A feeling
Of charity
In me.
But did I dare
To walk into
The lions’ den?
Berlin was the main
Place for the Nazis to be.
Father Josef hadn’t come
To see me in a while.
I wondered if he had
Forgotten me.
I decided to go
Rather than stay hidden.
I wanted to see more
Of what was going on
In my country.
We decided to walk
All the way
To the city.
Poor Kurt said he knew the way.
I wrapped
My chapped feet in old cloths
And put my boots over them.
I still had my grandmother’s shawl
To wrap around my shoulders.
We were in the middle of a forest
That looked like it was made of glass.
I wondered where the butterflies went
When the world was frozen over.
My hands had turned red and sore
And sometimes I couldn’t feel my nose.
My blue eyes were large and dark and
My blond hair was dirty.
I had shrunk to the size of a beanpole.
Poor Kurt had a whistle
He said kept the bears away.
But I was afraid
He was calling them to us.
A car driven by SS
Drove past us.
They didn’t stop.
The SS were an elite
Group of Nazi military.
They were scary—
Scarier than bears.
Germany’s churches continued
To attack T4.
From a sermon
Of Clemens August von Galen,
Catholic bishop of Munster
In 1941:
“Woe to humanity,
Woe to the German people
If God’s Holy
Commandment,
‘Thou shall not kill,’
Is not only transgressed
But if the transgression
Is both tolerated
And carried out
Without
Punishment.”
We saw a light in the woods
And stopped for the night.
Poor Kurt knocked on the door
Once, twice, three times.
He put his ear to the door
And then looked at me and shook
His head, meaning he heard nothing.
The light went out
Inside the small cabin.
Who lived there?
An owl flew past me,
Or a bat.
I shook my hands
In front of my face.
I looked up.
Orion’s belt was visible above us all.
I made a wish on the evening star.
We were too tired not to stop,
So we waited and Kurt called out: “Help!”
Finally, a woman with sad, dark eyes
And a worried expression
Cracked open the door.
She looked at Poor Kurt
Suspiciously.
But when she caught
Sight of me,
I smiled as wide as I could.
She reached out a wrinkled hand
And gently pulled me in.
Poor Kurt too.
Seven people
In a room not big enough for three.
Two old people, the woman with the dark eyes,
A man who looked like he could be her brother,
A ten-year-old boy, a six-year-old girl, and a baby.
They lay on top of each other to keep warm.
They lit a candle stub and prayed at sundown.
They ate bread that had turned black.
They put snow in a jug to make water.
Why did they live this way? They were Jews.
I shared my shawl and cloths
With the other children. I liked
Six-year-old Nelly. She
Reminded me of Clara.
We huddled together,
All nine of us,
And watched the door.
I darned my stocking
With the needle and thread
I brought along.
Nobody spoke.
We told stories
With our eyes
As we stared into
One another’s faces.
I realized
I wasn’t the only one
Who was hated.
Time passed
As slowly
As
An icicle
Melting
When
The sun
Shines.
I couldn’t stay in that place
Any longer.
I told Poor Kurt, “We’re going back
To the shelter.”
I wanted our new friends
The Lindenbaums
To come along.
They were scared
To walk
Openly
Down the road.
I hoped Nelly
Would come with me, at least.
But the family didn’t want to
Be separated.
I had just turned fourteen.
But I had a plan.
I would get Father Michael
To go back for them
In his car.
It was foolish
To head for the big city
If we could do good nearby.
I walked up a hill
In the evening.
I could see only
Four feet ahead of me.
I turned a corner
In an icy hedgerow
And there he was—
A moose.
He was very tall
And strong.
I looked up
At his antlers
And dark muzzle.
His eyes
Were clear,
Like stars.
He could
Have killed me.
But he didn’t.
I stayed calm
And he walked
Around me.
I felt safe with him,
As in my father’s arms.