Unsung Hero

Something I learnt from my trip that while not everyone was intimately involved in the holocaust the bystanders are not really any more innocent. To say they were too afraid, as may have been the case, only makes the actions of those who did not just set aside all the more extraordinary.

Raoul Wallenberg

• A Swedish diplomat
• Located in Nazi occupied Hungary
• Saved nearly 100,000 Hungarian Jews

Canada

A short poem based on the Canada warehouses and those who worked there

This week I will be doing a series of reflections on both my experience at Auschwitz and things that it prompted me to explore further.

Outcasts

I looked back one last time before I dived. The air rushed past me as I fell until suddenly I crashed into the waves below. I surfaced to whoops from above as my flock came down after me. Who has a flock you ask? Those people with wings growing from their backs.

Blood Red Moon

Blood red moon,
Battle’s coming soon.
Suspended in the sky,
Product of a lie.
Death by noon.

---

The precursor to a coming fiction post

Small miracle

Drops streaming down the cold, frigid surface
Slowing, freezing as they go.
Halfway down and they’re gone
Merged into one whole.
Ice crystals
Stuck, frozen in place.
Beautiful snowflake like circles
Crystallised on the glass.
A moment in time and then gone
Small miracle, missed in a second.

Hectic (Part 3)

As he walked Raktacolas passed their orders on to his second who produced the current inventory from somewhere on his person. Then they set off to the first of many places they would need to visit in order to make the amendments needed before it could be returned to Trackon. An action that would result in the man reading it and then passing it straight back to them so they could fix any problems before he ordered another inventory the next time he felt the need to keep Raktacolas busy. If that didn’t occur for a while then Raktacolas and his men quietly kept stock of their stores and made sure there was enough to keep the army going.

Hectic (Part 2)

As he stood there with his men flanking him he found himself wishing he had been able to escape to his hunt before the messenger found him. Instead of the cool shade offered by the trees he was standing here in the open sun with a heavy cloak and heavier armour. Not only that his whole company’s tents were being relocated to even further from the command post which would no doubt irk Trackon.

Written Words

Tattered, torn, yellowing, creased,
The signs of a truly loved book.
Twisting thoughts and flowing words.
Bonds inescapable, mind furled.
Bound to the chair, lost to the world.
Friends, lovers, family, kin,
Enemies and haters with you till the end,
Till the very last page and that very last word.
A wish, a hope to see what’s next.
Yet always a dread, dread of the close.
For it to be over,
Never to begin again.
Names flowing though your mind,
Questions that go unanswered.
Fake all of them and yet more real somehow.
It’s a skill, an art, to bind the mind just now.
It’s a blessing, a gift, to read that script,
That has you gripped.
To lose yourself in another world.

Hectic (Part 1)

Life has been a bit hectic at the moment so I haven’t had time to put pen to paper let alone sit down in front of my laptop. So what better way to dive back in than with the tale of a man who quite simply didn’t have enough time?

Without further introduction I give you Raktacolas a soldier in the Aticulan army. Of course he wasn’t just any soldier, he was a well-known lord. Famed in fact for his skill with a sword, it wasn’t just him but whole company he led that was renowned. A group of ten heavy armed knights all of whom sat atop great horses with gleaming coats and would go anywhere, do anything, in the name of duty.