We just escaped Holocaust Day in Israel by a few hours, but I never feel I can escape it.  The memorial for Lida will take place next month, in which I mourn my grandmothers, my cousins, aunts, uncles, and others.  And I keep finding myself writing poems about the holocaust.  Why poems?  Because the experiences I know about are scraps, individual events, fragments with no logic, no plot, no context.

people are scared of poems, but they are precisely the way you can get the feeling of the individuals in the situation.