Wednesday, April 14, 2010
A Holocaust encounter
(The image is of the barbed wire at Maidanek, in Lublin, Poland. The camp in my dream was not Maidanek, but the configuration of most of the camps was very similar.)
I have mentioned on this blog before that I have had some Holocaust-related psychic encounters, particularly when I visited the former camps in Poland and Germany. Last night, I had another encounter that left me deeply affected.
Yesterday, I felt this incredible urge to write. It was as if there were words inside of me just aching to be released.
That, in itself, is not unusual. In fact, I write often.
But last night, these words were not my own.
So, I opened up Word and just started typing, and waited to see what came out. First, I created the poem that I have posted below. But when the poem was finished (I think, anyway), I felt this torrent of words and thoughts, rushing by almost too quickly to comprehend. And I knew, then, that I had a spirit there, desperate to talk.
The first words I heard (and yes, there was a voice in my head - it was not my voice) were "there was barbed wire in my hand...."
I got a strong image of a barbed wire fence, with human beings strewn across it in the anguish of death throes.
I started to hear sounds.
Over and over, I heard the clang of metal on metal, and the shrill of a train whistle.
The room turned ice cold, and I was shivering.
And this young girl, Elena, led me to her story.
It was a very dark one. I felt her desperation and anguish. I saw her surroundings. I knew her motivation.
I saw the confines of the camp, with snow on the ground and the chill only partly from the bitter winter wind. I heard the chatter of the prisoners, the barking of the German dogs, the crunch of boots on gravel and snow. I saw the dark, dark green of the trees, almost black, beyond the camp perimeter, emitting a sinister glow. And I smelled smoke and ash in the sharp air.
And I watched as she made the conscious decision to throw herself on the electrified barbed wire fence rather than let the Nazis kill her. All of this as her five year old sister looked on.
This was one of the most powerful encounters I have experienced to date, and it was one that was incredibly difficult to sever. Elena had much more that she wanted to show me, and her soul is restless because she does not want to be remembered as a coward. Frantically, she repeated over and over, "In choice there is honor and self-respect. I denied them the opportunity to abuse and humiliate me further."
So, today's post is for Elena, and for all of the victims of the Nazi atrocities. It is a reminder to all of us that we should be slow to pass judgement on the actions of others, unless we first walk that mile in their shoes. I will remember you, Elena, and your brave choice.
Here is the poem that emerged:
Begging to be set free
From the horrors of their fate.
Ash and dust,
Rushing quickly before
The Allies reach the gate.
Smoke and bone,
Rising skyward as they
Release the souls from earth.
Deep in silence,
Mission of the Nazis
Carried out with mirth.