We toured . . .

36,000 square feet
2,500 photographs
900 artifacts.

Stared. Imagined inside
dark train cattle car.

Craned necks looking up
vintage portraits, village faces.

Gaped at 4,000 shoes
haphazard heap, all sizes.

Sat at the end,
exhausted by 36,000 square feet
2,500 photographs, 900 artifacts.

Gruesome cold history
what was, compiled
artfully displayed.

And then . . .
her arm around the elderly man
stumbling, sobbing
short sleeved shirt, indelible ink.
I know, Papa, I know.

Written in response to an online 21 day course I am taking, day 7 prompt. I took my first poetry class two years ago from Holly Wren Spaulding and am enjoying working with her again. We toured the museum the first year it opened. Seeing this elderly man, a holocaust survivor, at the end of our visit shockingly reminded us of the holocaust’s reality. Photo  from the Holocaust Museum in Washington DC. Posted for OLN Thursday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Bar opens at 3 PM Boston time. Stop in to imbibe some words from creative folks across the globe!