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