At night, I ride the train to nowhere,
trapped in a tomblike cattle car,
crushed by the living dead;

I smell the foul odor of feces, urine,
and fear; taste the boiling heat of
sweat and tears cascading down
the shriveled, shrunken faces
of black terror; inhale the
claustrophobic,
choking,
toxic
air;

Every night I ride this train,
and each time, the
unbearable smell
of death clings
to my skin;
I touch the
dying;

I vomit on the corpses that
surround me; and I
shriek unholy
sounds of
despair;

I survive the trip. I arrive at
Auschwitz. I trudge across
a ramp that takes me into
the camp. Ahead of me,
I see two rows-one to
the left and one to
the right.

I pray to Hashem, my G-d.
An S.S. officer points
to the right.

Those who go to the left
are destined for the
gas chambers.

In this dark dream, I’m
young and strong,
blessed with
emotional
strength
too.

I wake up. I’m an old man
now. An S.S. officer
would order me to
go to the left
and to the
showers
.
if Hitler’s
war

began today. Of course, it
couldn’t happen again.
Surely, we have
learned from
the past.
Right?

I read about the rise of anti-Semitism.
It can’t be true, not today. Yet
throughout the world,
hatred of the Jews
metastasizes;

Neo-Nazi groups flourish, and
terrorists feed on bigotry,
targeting Jews,
Americans,
and other
innocents.

And thus, at night, I’m buried in an
unbearable dream, a dark journey

to nowhere-a one-way trip to
Auschwitz, across Time and
Space.

Yet when I wake up, the
nightmare continues;
the death camps are
just around the
corner,

unless we learn from
the past, unless we
learn;

I pray to Hashem,
my G-d.
I pray.