©2018 by John Nuttall Christian faith Poetry. Proudly created with Wix.com

Several years ago I was in Prague staying with a friend who lives there.. He invited me for a trip out to a place called Terezin . It is a walled town, and was used for imprisonment in both World Wars .. the Nazis used it in the 2nd War to house Jews, dissidents and Resistance fighters.. Many died of sickness and disease in the terrible and overcrowded situations, many were shot or killed , and thousands took the journey from here to the Extermination sites..

I went to the Museum , a simple place that deeply affected me, with it’s children art  and photograhs and accounts of the horrors that took place here and in other places …  A remarkable matter is that the Jews being held here established their own council to make representations and deal with matters of concern , but also many of the very gifted captives used their talent in artistically creative ways 

 

O Terezin

You place of sin

Of death and degradation

Holding place

For terror camps

For Jewish execution

“ The Final Solution

Of the Jewish Question”

Young and old

Side by side

Unaware of genocide

Children leapfrog

Bulldog

Hopscotch

Into fratricide

O Terezin

Fortress camp

Served as Jewish ghetto

Stipulating

Concentration

For mass extermination

Demonic torment

Brutal treatment

Dignity repressed

O Terezin

Your famine

Your death

Disease and excrement

The torture

And the nakedness

Overcrowding

Screams and cries

Squeezed like cattle

Sent to die

‘Sie wurden in den Transport eingereicht…’

Began the note

To those whose plight

Would be a one-way

Train to Auswitz

 

O Terezin

You living Hell

Your Machiavellian posturing

The charade the lies

The twisting of the knife

To cover the Evil of your ways

 

BUT YET

You could not

Obliterate

The spirit of your captives

Who snubbed their noses

At your evil and depravity

And broke out into song and dance..

As their last chance at freedom

And of life ….

With poignant levity

The people made their puppet shows

Their vaudeville

Their operas

Their concerts and their pantomimes

While poets uttered rhymes …

Most touchingly the children drew

Their chilling record

Of your crimes

Their gifted plays

Their satire of your ways

 

And in the end 

The Final Solution

Had its own

 Finale

O Terezin 

You could not win              

 

john nuttall May 2018

       under my nose

Wrote this after some beautiful walks in summer and realising the beauty of God's creation on my doorstep

  

Don’t need to look too far for recreative  artistry

regenerative therapy

A feast for my senses right here in front of me

A blessing on my doorstep

An outburst of variety,

An uprising of thankfulness for this my dwelling place –

 

Happy school , children at play

Friendly pub , community ,

Farms, cottages , family

Hedges, trees, fields, silage, bales of hay

 

Fresh mown grass drying in the hot sun

Here I met the one

Forever and a day to be

My love –

 

She in her garden

Praying , spraying ,

Watering , weeding

Pricking out seedlings

Planting

Busy and bustling

Watching and waiting

Harvesting ….

Feasting

 

Moles and voles and rabbit holes

Rats and cats and barking dogs

Piglets, hedge-hoglets and froglets

 

A pond with geese , ducks , moorhens too

Numbers dwindling as the fox runs through

Farm track with peewits , busy black and blue tits

Plover, lapwing , suddenly rising, swooping from their

ground- nests to the sky, as I walk by

 

Chiff -chaff chuffing

Robust robin ,

Seagulls calling :: mine mine mine

 

Restless swallows, erratically diving, darting, weaving,

Constantly busy

Home for a season

Then gone

 

Blue and white heaven encircling me ,

A picture postcard sky

Cows grazing

Horses frisking , playing dead

I wonder why?

Sheep calling

Pennine hills surrounding

Running brook bubbling

 

Quiet valley, gentle breeze,

I run my hands through long grass

As I walk along the path

Between two fields

 

To you for whom He is the ‘Unknown God”

He is all around

In colour, light  and sound

He’s like the air we breathe

So close sometimes we do not see

His handiwork

 

As under my nose a soft wind blows

under my nose
00:00 / 02:53