On Eichmann and Arendt: A
Meditation
Who could be so banal,
prosaic and bland
As to undertake an action of
this kind.
To eradicate a people from
the land
And hope the rest of us would
be so blind
As not to see or hear or
understand ?
We hear the witnesses long
after, the skeletons
Who survived, the broken
souls, the girls
And boys who grew old in
horror and the ones
Who never grew, until they
could un-tilt
The universe thrown upside
down: the pearls
Of price made valueless, the
schools built
On desert sands, the empty
promises
Of ancient liturgies; and as
they speak
Out of their darkness, pain
and madness
We glimpse eternity and end
the week
Of broken moments in creation:
to bless
Such labours were a sin, to
sit in silence
Another malfeasance.
It is a time for rage
And recognition of the crime
that turns the page,
As though vengeance were done
and anger assuaged.
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