Here's a video of the poetry reading. It's about an hour long, 40 minutes of poems and then some time for questions.
The reading, organized by Gregory Tague of Editions Bibliotekos and sponsored by St. Francis College, was written up for the college site. The piece contains some background information about my mom and dad and a couple of photos of me. Please stop by and take a look.
6 comments:
That your story, dear friend, was "the most powerful piece" doesn't surprise me.
Along with your prose, your poetry is stellar too....
Barry Koplen
That your story, dear friend, was "the most powerful piece" doesn't surprise me.
Along with your prose, your poetry is stellar too....
Barry Koplen
Your reading and comments in your presentation were very moving. I am struck by your unfettered access to deep compassion for your parents, a profound difference from my own experience. Perhaps my father’s failure as a father was not merely because he was damaged by the war. His failure was in believing that his mistreatment of us was our fault, and as if we, like his Nazi abusers, were continuing to victimize him in what he interpreted as a similar offence: having needs or rights of our own; in fact, the very notion of a child having needs was met by him with ridicule and contempt. Separating cultural differences from war trauma has been difficult. As children in suburban America in the sixties and seventies, we had no context for this sight line.
Hi, Lucia, I think I know what you mean about your dad. My mom was in part the same way. I sometimes felt that her parenting skills were taught to her by German guards.
I wrote a poem about this called "The Evil that Men Do."
Here's the ending of the poem:
Maybe she learned it there
in the slave labor camps—
how to cut her self loose
from you with a slap
or an ugly word like kurva
or dupajash or gnoić.
I’ve seen her take my father—
stupid from work and drink—
and pull him from the chair
and kick him while he cried:
“Tessha, Tessha, Boze moie.”
She forgives the Nazis
for teaching her this discipline
but she can’t forgive my dad,
my sister Danusha or me.
We breathe too easy.
John your words are so powerful. As a child of survivors, who each individually had their lives ripped apart by Hitler and Stalin, I understand the voice that cries to be heard. Thankyou for your poems
hania kaczanowska from Kresy
Hi, John, "The Evil that Men Do" says it all. I am well acquainted with those horrible words, and the shame. It is very humbling to contemplate in what ways we are blind in raising our own children. Thank you.
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