in front of the TV. They said there was something
I had to watch. They said there was something
it was my duty to watch. I wanted to go out and
play football with Alex but no, they said – I had to sit
down and watch the TV. I had to watch the documentary;
it was part of my history. And so I saw the chimneys,
the chambers, the smoke. I saw those bone-spectres ghosting
through Auschwitz, Belsen, Treblinka. I wanted to get away
but no, my parents said – I needed to see this. I needed
to be educated. And from then on, death stalked every lesson,
every playdate, every football match. Death inched
its fingers into every exam, every underage pub trip,
every awkward teenage clinch. It muscled its way
into all the corners of my life – graduation, job, marriage;
past, present, future. See, nothing gets left but history.
Nothing remains but what is gone.