For ALM - With Thanks

My own invasion of Poland,
Was crossing from Czech by car,
On my way to one of the most endearing cities,
I have ever been,
In Wroclaw,
In the city centre,
I crossed the river and marveled,
At the raw brilliance of a city,
Destroyed by war and flood multiple times,
Rebuilt by the passion of the people,
Brick by brick,
Precisely.

Wanting to see Westerplatte,
But short of time,
We had to choose,
Picking our battles,
So as to see the most we could,
Zakopane also not in the cards and Warsaw,
We could not find the time.

I was on a mission,
One I have had since childhood,
One that brought us to the Jewish Quarter,
Of Krakow,
And then to Oswiecim,
A part of me never returning home with us,
As I witnessed,
First hand,
What industrial slaughter of a people looks like,
Falling to my knees, tears streaming down my cheeks,
I will never forget,
The man,
That sweet old man,
Who rushed to my side,
Extended his hand,
And called me brother,
As he lifted me back up again,
Our eyes meeting,
And in an instant,
There was no need for words,
Not there,
Not then,
We’d never meet again,
But my faith in humanity,
Though shaken,
Was restored,
By the simple action,
Of a beautiful man.

SDM