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It is possible, it is very possible, that here it is impossible to live, but here we must remain, here we must die, sleep…there is no other place…—Y. H. Brenner
How shall I bless him and what will this child be blessed with? asked the angel. Life—so it emerges from the song lyric—was among the options of the angel’s blessing. But after all, angels don’t exist…
Ever since she had sent the letter to Toronto, Fumiko had been a bundle of nerves. Would George Brady write back? Will he help us to know Hana? Even the letter carrier who…
I have a great coat. I have round black eyes. I have a cap. I raise my hands. I am the boy whose hands are raised in the picture.
In the city of Warsaw such a long time ago
Two hundred children stand lined row on row
With their freshly washed faces and freshly washed clothes
The children of Poland who never grow old
In the…
And now Blimele, dear child,
Stop—stop playing now.
No time for that.
We can be called at any minute
To leave our poor home
—A lonely boat on an island of sand—
And be hurled into the midst
Of a…
He, Meyer, during all the days when they prepared Wanda for the journey (according to regulations, the women had to take along shoes, clothing…
“That is my daughter’s dress you are wearing, Chaya Abramowicz. My Chaya. I brought it as a present for her in Lublin.”
“Chaya,” Hannah said.
“The same name, too. God is good. Your name means life.”…
She turns the pages, naked uncles
so naked and skinny, run and
even aunties with fannies showing
and others in pajamas as in a show
with yellow cloth stars sewed on.
And everybody so ugly and thin,
a…
The book being presented to the reader represents a selection of a thousand autobiographies composed by Jewish children, survivors of the conflagration, tender children who lived for months and even…