The Traitors

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Historical Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A poem about a German Jew in 1930s Berlin, through the eyes of a man waking up with woman who risks everything in a world that hates him.

Submitted: January 12, 2013

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Submitted: January 12, 2013



Eyes opened in tenderness like a newborn;
The light as pure as the virgin mother flooded the stage
Lonely moonlight submerged them,
Deafening silence dampened the rage.
Beating, beating the ever drumming beat
Of hearts born as twins; though of separate time.
The blood ran identical rivers though yours is
Dirtier than mine.

Shivering bodies scramble for the heat usually denied,
Rough hands speak kinder words
Than politicians; no more than scape-goating
No less than the absurd.

A tryst in desperate pursuit of escape;
Images of starlings spreading the wings of first flight,
The trepidation of death; no
Fear of pain bars us from our holy right.
Sweet satin skin absorbs all the pain from him,
Surrendering the soul to all audacious hell;
The devil casts no judgement; let us burn
In the blackest flames, we have bodies to sell.
Innocent of crime, guilty of our past,
Persecution is his seeker, to steal his humanity
But they will flog her as a traitor
To bask in the love of enemies is vanity.
Hunted, he must run further afield
Yet this fox is unwisely too proud,
The fatherland is precious even in a wanted man’s heart,
But the hatred is too loud.

Tin-soldiers was not enough for a boy
Lead to slaughter; Left to die
The boy survived for his country, now
He’s left unsure, the blessing became a WHY?
Smudged, blood hue lips leave a kiss;
A forehead embedded with a guilty man’s lines,
The righteous pay for malicious sin with their souls,
Where is the Messiah? His people pray for signs.
Shadows fall, desperate echoes of empty calls
Eyelids burned by moonlight reflected,
As the despaired futile hopes of release
Linger in the dreams of the rejected.

Sacred touch of forbidden hands,
Shared dreams of harmony,
The end,
The protection of distant lands.
Yet who would dirty their own soil
With hoards of beggars, and cattle
Who have suffered at the totured toil?

Heavy circles lay on heavy eyes,
Hiding her oxygen from the world,
All the devil and his spies.
She would choke, with half a soul
Half a lung, a heart, a brain
Without the man she was not whole.
A coward for her own protection,
Etta spoke no kind words,
She knew of no man, and there was no correction.
And he wasn’t a man, not an animal, a Jew.

The peace was painful as they lingered for the return
Retaliation did not come in an instant
Building up the storm;
Worse than before. Constant.
As his equals fled in fear of their lives,
He resides with stubborn stupidity,
To the country that refuses to claim him
He keeps his fidelity.

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