Commuting to Bratislava

In the immediate past

Has come down to travel

A few times per annum

Whenever a commemorative

Assembly of people will gather

To recall History’s darkest hours

Never to slide into oblivion.

Honour victims of the Holocaust

Or this time the willful destruction

Of the well-designed synagogue.

Its photographic representation

Rests pleasantly on one’s mind

Having bound successfully once

Into the City’s town planning fibre.

The spot now empty and raw

A broken off limb from the body

Of man’s creative being.

In the vicinity of the ‘Crowning Church’

This town planning’s erasure strikes

At the heart of any human being.

Bratislava. Pressburg. Pozsony.

A city rich with historical events.

Besides: Birthplace of Tommy and

His sister Erika

Saved by his Mom’s white lie to

The Nazi Boss: Brunner –

Eichmann’s right hand man –

Who deported his Dad via Sered

To Auschwitz.

At present tourists flock through

The illustrious friendly town with

Excellent renovated city squares

And historical buildings

Foremost the town square.

‘We are all here together.’

‘It’s so nice!’ Tommy says to his family

And extensions: Ophelia and Zsolt.

His spouse Mrs Inge agrees and

There are smiles all around.

Pending his 85th birthday

Tommy invites for lunch at Zichy’s

Opposite to his Family’s home

And where he was growing up.

Two marble plaques record the

Artist Adolf Frankl.




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