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Volume 1, Issue 3
Autumn 2005:


Helen Fagin

Cell 2 Soul. 2005 Autumn; 1(3):a5

Let me share a few lines I scribbled a long, long time ago, when memories were fresh and the pain still dominated my life.

In time
of suffering,
is the promise,
of no more sorrow (1962)

A new life

after each dying
brings a promise
and a hope

A new hope
is the beacon
that lights the way

Without hope,
little promise (1962)

A little grey kitten —
how much luckier than I:
she escapes through a break
in the ghetto wall.

And I?
I must wait to die. (1958)

In the early morning,
a look at the ghetto wall
and a feeling of gloom and fear.

In the early evening,
coming up behind the ghetto wall,
a cluster of white lilacs.

And, again,
in the morning
no time for flowers.

Next spring,
these lilacs
will bloom again
in white clusters.

Nothing in nature
disturbs their growth.
How wondrous,
how beautiful,
how sad. (1958)

I saw a child's doll
on top of a trash pile
inside a ghetto wall
that closed the world in — and out....

And I was sad —
not because of the wall,
and not because
I was much too old
to play with dolls.

I was worried about MAN
who has shattered a world
of dolls and dreams
for a young child.

And I asked:
why must this child be dead? (1962)

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