DP Camp Blues by Sy Roth


I never did get out
My forever Sing Sing
It defined my identity
I am displaced
A vagabond traveler
A hobo without rucksack
With only barbed-wire, past memories

Second-hand visions of a place.

 

Most photographs consumed 
With but one Poking image of a sad mother
Fecund with me,
Smileless,

On the steps of a building bearing a Mogen David.

 

1946 somewhere in the background
Floating in a wine of amniotic fluid
Inebriated into a froth of dis-remembrance

Hungering even then for an end

 

But it was only a beginning of the end
With  shreds of dropped crumbs for a  trail–
Shitty diapers and a Kandinsky I created on a wall with it,
A cousin birthed in a DP hospital at the same time,
Multiple curtained  rooms 
Shared space with little to hide the shame, 
Shame of living

And an agency to search the shreds of family.

 

Not on a map,
Not a blip on the radar of normalcy
Temporary quarters
Where officers and their army 
Once drank and  screwed, and lived their lives
While a generation languished and died
Reborn, some, into a life of sad reflection
For time lost and soulless family fading into dust,
Rockless memories 

Tossed into graves and ovens without identity.

 

Decades and the DP Camp blues are tattooed 
Lightly faded reminder
As the lives of others go on about me
In a tarantella of swirling gyrations
And I languish in the secrets of the others

Who had no reality but loss.

 

I try to weep for them.
Try,
But there is nothing there
Only the displaced person
In a mirthless camp.

 

 

 

©2020 Sy Roth

 

Follow Sy:

Sy Roth is a retired school administrator and has finally found the sounds of silence and the time to think whole thoughts. This has led him to find words and the ability to shape them. He has published in Visceral Uterus, Amulet, BlogNostics, Every Day Poets, Barefoot Review, Haggard and Halloo, Misfits Miscellany, Mad Swirl, Larks Fiction Magazine, Danse Macabre, Bitchin’ Kitch, Bong is Bard, Humber Pie, Poetry Super Highway, Penwood Review, Masque Publications, Foliate Oak, Miller’s Pond Poetry and The Eloquent Atheist.

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