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Rosh Hashanah 2009 - South African Jewish Board of Deputies

Rosh Hashanah 2009 - South African Jewish Board of Deputies

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JEWISH AFFAIRS ROSH HASHANAH <strong>2009</strong>broom handle to tell her that I am ready to leaveand she meets me downstairs. We walk to school.They say goodbye to Papa and his brother. Theyhave one shovel and one pickaxe between them.They gather with all the men in the town square.They are broken up into small groups and taken to therailway park. They dig their own graves. They all getundressed before being shot.The horse-drawn carts heavy with men’s clothingare seen blocking the streets. Everyone now knowsthe truth.It is Lisa who first sees our neighbour’s house onfire. It is made <strong>of</strong> wood. All the houses are made<strong>of</strong> wood except our house. She shouts that wemust leave immediately. Mama grabs whatclothes she can find for us.The buildings are blown up. They burn furiously.The Dougava River is burning. The entire townis in flames. Maja is standing in front <strong>of</strong> their strickenhome. She is eleven years old. She is wearing achocolate brown fur coat and new shoes. Mushka isterrified and hides deep in the fur under her arms.Lisa envelops her with her own body. The groaning<strong>of</strong> burning walls drowns out their screams.My wrist watch is on the window sill <strong>of</strong> mybedroom. It was given to me by Papa on my lastbirthday. How can I go without it?The streets are deserted. The slow procession <strong>of</strong>women wind their way between the charred streets.They slowly walk to the Citadel Fortress to start thebrief Ghetto stage before their final journey.Three months later, in November, the real killingswill begin. For the first time Jews will be brought intoLatvia to fill the mass graves. It is bitterly cold on thatfirst morning when the men and women are made toundress and stand before the open graves. The forestgroans with the weight <strong>of</strong> the dead.Now it is August. Late summer August. AnAugust <strong>of</strong> dreams and innocence. All <strong>of</strong> Latvia holdsits breath.The Summer When I Was TenI sat on the creek bandWatching the other kids swimSplashing and laughingThey called me a chickenBut if I took my pants <strong>of</strong>fThey’d see the bruisesJohn YarbroughThe LessonWhat Will Happen to the World?In future years,We will spread tears,because many animals have become extinctThe world changed after I blinkedWhat about wars,when a rocket soars?This causes pollution,But is there a solutionBe careful with natural thingsand all they bring.Try to walk to school,And keep the house cool.Litter, pesticides and smoke, get rid!And become an Eco-kid.Laurie Reznik(Ms. Reznik, aged 11, was the recipient <strong>of</strong> the 2008Young Writer’s Award for this poem, which appearedin the anthology The Big Green Machine: Versesfrom London and the Home Countries <strong>2009</strong>)The ghetto: dawn. A deathly lightDistempers, in the cobbled square,The spindly scarecrows, stiff with fright,Assembled at attention there.A truck, usurped for Nazi useBrings lumber, men who hammer, brace,Upraise a gallows, hang a noose,Depart. The kapitän, his faceA mask <strong>of</strong> granite, spits commands.A stick man, limp, in rags attiredIs frog-marched to the gibbet, stands,A flimsy puppet, tangle-wired– “loaf, a life [the hands make mime]Possess, in Warsaw, equal weight.That contrabandage is a crimeWho dares to question shares his fate!”The hangmen, by a finger cuedUpheave their victim, shoulder high;Too flaccid, he’s at last lassoed,By strangulation left to die.His neck, they could have broken first(It’s how they would have killed a hen),The crowds as quickly have dispersed,But where had been the lesson, then?Peter Austin37

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