This happened yesterday, just
yesterday,and haunted me all
through the day; those images
drifting before my eyes. I felt
their agony and the agony of
the artist, and finally at 6am
this morning I had to try and
express my feelings, for myself,
the artist, and for the memory of
those victims. Most importantly
for their memory.
Just a random conversation
At this random front door
Just random chit chat really
That led to so much more
Because he showed me his work today
Pain in starkest black and white
Drawings that haunt me still
That still remain in mindsight
Fresh composed and drawn
Those Images from Dachau
That juxtaposed a past
With a here and now
He explained that they were illustrations
of poems he had read; I was too struck
by their cruel honesty to ask more. I just
stood and looked and could not really say
what I felt – not then, not just there and then
How I felt their pain
Keen as a stabbing knife
Faces brought here
From long passed life
And I stood and looked
And I could understand
The agony he felt in creating
And I shook his artist's hand
And I have struggled with these words
For so long but I owe it to him to try
To give thanks that I had looked
For a while through his perceptive eye
