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Prayer to the Holy Louse

By Jerzy Ficowski Poetry

It was in the spring of 1944, during the delousing of the Gypsy barracks in the Auschwitz-Birkenau camp skirts scarves withered in the delousing room all in protective colors in poppies in buttercups in daisies in case of a meadow that wasn’t going to appear a Gypsy in the bathhouse of birkenau stripped of colors…

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Daring to Do the Good: The Knight and the Theologian

By Kathleen L. Housley Essay

WRITING FROM HIS SMALL CELL in a German prison, the theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer advised his family and friends to read the lengthy novel Witiko by Adalbert Stifter—the book that gave him great comfort from the time of his arrest in 1943 until his execution in 1945 for his involvement in the plot to kill Hitler.…

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The Promised Land

By Elizabeth Altomonte Short Story

THIS IS WHAT THINGS ARE LIKE HERE. The Palestinian fedayeen raids continue without mercy. Hardly a week goes by without a civilian being shot or ambushed in the Israeli Sector. Aubrey visits now and then, the young man’s face unalterably severe. He says there is a sense of foreboding in the air, a quiet dread,…

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Sudden Death

By Richard Michelson Poetry

I I am looking for the letter that arrived after Uncle Sol’s death. The one that says: The war is over! Love to Kayla, X-O-X. I even searched back through the cardboard box, opening each envelope in precise reverse order— sorry for the lapse between this missive and the last— watching their lives drawing closer…

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Another Holocaust Poem

By Richard Michelson Poetry

I I watch them enter, lined up, ark-like, two by two, chatting quietly, and after the teacher, counting, passes, one pushes and the one pushed begins the chase. This is how the orphans marched through Warsaw in 1942, I tell the behaved ones, orderly and under orders, and I’m just about to start that terrible…

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At the Synagogue Rummage Sale

By Philip Terman Poetry

At the Synagogue Rummage Sale during Holocaust Remembrance Day Basement, Butler, Pennsylvania, the gentiles bargaining for old tallises, worn yarmulkes, a torn challah cover, a stained torah, a hundred thumbed copies of Anne Frank— I walk out and past a circle of bat mitzvah-aged girls and our rabbi, who stops me and asks if I’ll…

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