What do you think of my poem which deals with the Holocaust and my dark side?
Survivor’s Luck
Now that we have left the century of the Holocaust
we have an outpouring, flood of Holocaust art -
movies, memoirs, plays, installations
And yet we know even if we are moved,
we cannot know if we weren’t there
My friends or so-called friends drain me
I wouldn’t mind throwing them
into the fiery pit of my mind
to be destroyed there
And would I have survivor’s guilt
if I did
If I will be honest,
I am also a so-called friend
Would I visit the latest memorial to the 6 million
or join the March of the Living
Or am I just a so-called Jew
Pretending to feel the horrors
My friend’s father,
a Holocaust survivor
told his story,
sitting in the kitchen
to friends and family
I sat in the living room, watching
I would not get up
I would not join them
I would not finally witness his story
Was it fear
Was it sorrow
Was it a form of my so-called sensitivity
Or some kind of perversity saying like a devil,
even in the horror, you are unwelcome
So I don’t know his story
from sheer willpower not to know
I do remember hearing the word “luck”
Of course, it had to be luck
He didn’t know how he survived
He was just lucky
And I am lucky too
For I have survived
the horrors of my mind