marching to the song

my father came from the courts
said the law no longer exists
I spent the afternoon I remember
him putting a little ornament ashtray
I remember
three times in my suitcase
along the platform groups of families
on the journey a playful time
Nazi’s were
marching to the song

if the Jewish blood …
much more waiting to say
I remember my parents waving and the sandwiches
my mother had so carefully prepared
waved in her hand
April acrid spring in the air
the tune Maotzur
the hatred in the air

HM Goldberg: a journey Berlin/England
2007
Morris Feinmann Home,