Poem: Contemplating Holocaust

I've often thought that were it me to be
held sacrifice for the vice of economy
to appease the God of currency
that not a victim would I be.
But, alas stand I
In Nuremberg and Munich,
where the Mad Dog was birthed
And Think
No they come for the teachers first.

Often,
I’ve thought, “I would resist and survive the challenge of the long walk. The crowded heat of cattle cars.
The endless weighting of life against life.
The rending of family,”
These would only shore up my resistance.
And Then the callouses on my foot from too much sight seeing, reminds me of my fragility.

I often think of my love,
for the underdog.
For whom I always route,
having been the underdog myself,
I’m familiar with this suit.

But, I’m routing for the underdog to win,
Defeat those privileged few.
So, am I any different then from those who yelled, “Die, Jew”?

Thinking
I will always be the one who could not stand
but hold up their bare hand
to the cannon in defense of the other.
Knowing, I am one man in Tienanmen,
Knowing I am Malcolm X,
Knowing I am Harriet Tubman,
and would rather shot one who strove to go back
and save the forward moving few than allow one
to nestle in the bosom of mother oppression.

Then,
I think of times I’ve passed a man with a sign,
weighed the change in my pocket,
and moved on.

Where are the Mad Dogs now?
What sacrificial call is being heard?
Where in this world is the contemplation of Holocaust?

— Ieisha McIntyre, MWW Participant