In the dimness of night
Of eerie shadows
Haunted by visions
Of bygone horrors.
I see my Dear Mother
No wrinkles, no gray hair
Her face like some portrait, ageless in space.
Through the years her image unchanged
But the Dead do not age
And I wipe a tear off my face.
I dream of my Little Sister
So innocent, so frail
The presence of heavenly angels
Lifted her soul with grace
Dear Chajku — thirteen in age
And I wipe a tear off my face.
Life is but a passing parade
An endless motion from place to place.
I flow with the crowd feeling safe
Till the nightfall takes over
With another nightmare.
Haunted by death camps
That rule my dreams
I struggle through the night
In a blanket of fear.
The morning comes
The visions of horror sail through the air
The memories linger into the day
As evening approaches of what is in wait.
