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Poem
Finding the plot

Of lost innocence
engrained in untold memories

The silenced absence 
in past present unspoken
stories well hidden
and therefore evoking
my past and my future
not mine and mine

Quite a mind-field
mines bombs blazing
artillery burning houses

My antecedent shelter of
generational tapestry
knotted not knotted
attached and attacked 
in hindsight myopic
insight reflection distortion

Existential vertigo
imagination fictitious
'memesis' narrational
irrational in
un-disclosing reality

Approximation of personal
truth and forgetting
un-kown remembrance
what was and was not
what might have been
unsettling my journey
reconcilling projections
more real than the void
of silence screaming

Two photographs
unearthed post mortem
heritage disbelieving
acknowledgment in 
second order ties that
bind generations
for later or worse
in not so new
beginnings

The baby-faced soldier
volunteered for fascist
idealised purity
insignia “Lebensraum”
in mind soul grenades

Mastering marches and race
for books to be burnt and bodies
alike the stench of 'smeltering'
flesh concentrated ashes
on the graveyard of living
hell horror abomination 

Mislead but never
the less culpable
in complicity of non
resistance and passion

Small steps from juvenile
prodigy as child radio
speaker in brown shorts
and obedience
deluded megalomania

Meeting Mussolini
“Heil Hitler my Duce”
surviving Russian winters
of lice infested power
pulverised bodies
ideological mind

This is my history
my baby-faced father
wielding the guns

My mother instead
diving from high platforms
somersaulting into the pools
of water not yet turned
to blood of skins
into lampshades
bayonetted children
dispatched from
dignity freedom
in aberrated inhumanity

She was a champion
of the Reich
winning her laurels
in aesthetic beauty
representing
regime terror crashed crystals
of synagogues gay friendships
political cells
Roma wagons mental
asylums with refuge
refused in annihilation
exterminated in denial
and no mutiny displayed

Later saving roofs from
the fires of retaliation
suffering no doubt
in misplaced childhood
not yet knowing defeat
for a better world to be
dreamt of naively

Beautiful plaits wanting eyes
graceful in innocence of 
a story unfolding
inside and around
etching into
the moment of
ancestral procreation

My history again
and insights lost never found
behind the veil and defence
of post-traumatic perpetration
cynical acceptance of what
has been regardless of 
what was not to be disclosed
responsibility shunned
oozing into the next
generation of children

Never found plots
in aphonic dialogue
shouting so loudly
into the festering wounds
of un-explicable sadness
marching boots
of complicity

I have not walked 
in history’s shoes
just in the silence

My own offspring...
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