ET DEUX ET LUX ET SOBIBOR

Today the sparrows sing at Sobibor,
But song cannot ring high enough at Sobibor
To mute the children’s cries.

Up through the crackled earth they rise
These fifty years, accusers all,
Pale breaths and sighs
To whisper Gotterdamrung in German ears.

No gentle rains
May leach the ground of Sobibor,
Bleached by the salt of tears,
The rusty soaks of murdered blood.

Time's poultice cannot staunch
The wounds of Sobibor,
Carved from its soul
By soulless German hate.

Pale wraiths of babes and children
Flit endless through its gate
And do not rest
And cannot rest.

The flames are silent now
In its unfired grate;
But o'er and ever yet
The children die at Sobibor
And pass in endless line its furnace door.

Today the flowers bloom at Sobibor
And waft their sweet aromas upon the winds,
But through their brave effulgence
There yet blends
The broils of children at Sobibor.