January 1943
for Joeki Broedelet
I walked the cart track
on a sharp winter's day
I was met by my mother
figurine in the distance
The night before I dreamed
that I sailed a little ship
My hand caressed the duckweed
in the glittering ditch
The ship sailed to the other side
and got entangled in the vegetation
I looked up and saw my father
he stuck his arm through the barbed wire
He looked at me imploringly
my father asked me for bread
On that country road, mother
you held me tight in a long embrace
Your eyes were red
your coat reeked of the town
The German by postcard reported
my father he was dead
In Neuegamme, bitter place
there they had murdered him
I felt nothing
but knew that I had to feel something
Looked along my mother's sleeve
to the tempting forest
Only when I could I talked nineteen to the dozen
about what really occupied my mind
The snare I had set
in front of the rabbit hole
The hut I was building
in the tree that nobody knew
Later on I felt pain
that never went away
Which still racks my body
as I write this
Long ago, yet close by
lasting one man's lifetime
20-2-1980 |
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Remco Campert [1929] |
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