In the dead of night

My mobile rings

Torn from a sweet dream

My partner’s voice –

She’s my waking service –

She says

Talking me awake and

Telling me to cook some

Fuul.

No. I won’t cook

But shower languidly.

By the time my set alarm

Rings once

The sun’s already up.

Time to eat my goat yoghurt

With nuts and berries.

Collect thoughts and some

Necessities

Walk over to Mr.T’s flat

Mrs IRA will drive us to the

Excursion bus. OK.

It’s great that Mr.T’s up

Almost ready to go.

His wife and the poet have

To handle him with kid’s gloves

Unfortunately he’s easily irritated

Aggravated with a taint of

Reoccurring annoyance

He’ll stop everyone who

Interferes with his rhythm

Of morning ritual.

Not me

Just nudge him along

Until he’ll overcome his

Initial fear of travelling on

A bus to Mauthausen

To a remembrance ceremony

Of the Holocaust.

 

B my partner in love and crime

Wished to be included

Yet Mr.T could only include

One person to accompany him.

We are punctual.

The bus will leave at 7:00 am.

Fine.

After 2 ½ hours we’ll be kneecapped

Due to the tight seating

But Mr.T seems to take all quite

Well in his stride

Talking up a woman traveler.

 

At least after a pit stop at the

Outskirts of St.Pölten

The bus finally arrives in the

Village of Mauthausen and

Continues a small road up to the

Former death camp of the Nazis.

A great assembly of visitors and

Partakers to the ceremony

Crowd the entrance and the

Apell-courtyard with the twin

Fear imposing towers

Reminding of Eastern oligarchy.

Something of a demonic air

Oozes from the roughhewn stone

That saw lots of violence and blood

And absorbed the cracking gunshots

That killed the innocent victims at

The infamous Death stair to the

Stone quarry.

 

Drawings from Simon Wiesenthal

Came to mind.

Once we’ve enter the former

Collection camp

I recall the horrors there

When I visited with B the first time

On a walk about in 1996

Driving back from Germany.

As she did not wish to visit the camp

In Theresienstadt

She finally agreed to visit with me

The Mauthausen camp en route.

Häfele who informed the US troops

Close to Linz

Saved the inmates and the barracks

We see today

From being blown to smithereens.

 

The parade of European countries

Overseas countries

Where survivors chose to resettle

The endless rows of social democratic

Youth

Who had banners scolding the

Present set-up of a right-orientated

Government

Were standing out with their

Demonstration of a mass of

Flying red flags

Dominating their presence above

All other groups of young people.

 

The sun blisters from a cloudless sky

Time for Prof. G to ask his friends

If they were prepared to take us

Back to Vienna as we were not

In a position to reach the bus in

Time for its departure.

Besides we still had to do some

PR-work with Mr.T’s latest DVD

About his Dad’s art

A gift he presented the two

Chancellors

The present and the previous.

 

Our travel hosts: Lutz and Helga

Stopped for lunch at the pub

‘Blaue Traube’. We followed.

The soup was average

But the Blaufränkisch wine

Was excellent.

Mr.T did a losing battle with

His small portion of beef.

Once all settled in Lutz’s Audi

We arrived well in Vienna

While Mr.T talked to Lutz and

I conversed with Helga

About a few topics

Cutting travelling time to bits

Shortening the boredom of

Motorway travel.

 

Perhaps we’ll go for coffee

Lutz said at our farewell rituals.

Why not we were pleasant

Company to each other.

Indeed.

A great day in memorial to all

Gruesome deaths to the inmates

Yet rounded off with some good

Talk and discovering common

Sympathies for each others.

MAUTHAUSEN.NESUAHTUAM

 

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’18.