I sit alone under a lonely tree.
Will anyone help me?
Withering in silence as my fertile body is clogged up with sorrow
How should I live knowing you have not?
How should I accept my joy knowing you have none?
I weep for you as a willow, her long branches dipping their tears
onto the bank of that cool lake that I call home.
Take me back to the motherland and let me birth my babies in peace.
Peace from the wars of this land.
Peace from the waves of unending sorrow I feel ripple through me daily.
Peace from the pain of so many memories.
I have come here for freedom, for adventure, for respect.
Yet I have gained none, only to be lashed by the merciless words of rejection;
"Stupid Polak" "Go back where you came from"
"I will" I said, and I did just that.
I packed my bags.
I was ready.
I feared nothing.
They would never accept me as I was.
I was foreign to them.
They were foreign to me.
But I liked them.
Yes they were more gullible and dense than anyone I had ever met.
Numbed by their comforts. Numbed by their security. Numbed by their money.
Who could blame them for lacking the muscles of ingenuity, compassion, respect,
developed from back breaking labor
to gather the coins needed for survival
for just one more day?
They had not known war; bombs dropping from the heavens piercing babies' ears.
They had not known the ghettos; my peoples' innocence gathered in festering disease pools.
They did not believe me when I told them of my survival.
I am a Polish Jew mother,
and I will always be your daughter.
