Last Time We Were Human

Written this summer in Prague, in Pinkas synagogue, part of the Jewish quarters. Pinkas is a memorial to all that were lost from Prague lost in the Holocaust. The names of all the dead are written in red along the walls, while a voice plays on the speaker chanting the name as if they are the words of a Hebrew prayer. The Jewish quarter in Prague was preserved by Hitler, he planned to make it a museum of the extinct race of Jews.

But instead, I'm still standing right here.

When was the last time we were human?

These red names across the wall,

Don't you know

these are my people

and they're asking when was the last time we were human

when was the last time we were people

Today, today, my people are human

these names on a wall

no, so much more

my history, our history

our tears

And I'm not the first to sit crosslegged on our synagogue's floor

Wondering can you hear me?

I'm trying to hear you through

this memorial to life, this memorial to death, your names playing through my ears

Lord, these are the names of my people

And they preserved this synagogue to be a museum for an

extinct race

those Jews of long ago

But no.

I will take these names, write them on my arms

Lowenberger, Lowenbein

for Josef and Janeta, for Pavel

the Lowenbergs the Lowensterns

For the Marburgs and Gerta

The names of my people,

the people I stand among

The ones I stand for

There is no apology, no explanation

for the darkness inside a human soul

But my name isn't on these walls

and sometimes I think it's only because of

a on a twist of fate

as simple as a lock turn

or the tower's time hand

But this isn't simple

I can not consecrate this pain

make ravaged souls holy

Because all I know is how to hold a pen

That I write for you, that I write of you

Because we can not forget, we do not forget

we will not forget

the death, but more importantly the life

of my people

the names inside this synagogue

I will not forget my people

And I know that these words on a wall, these words on my page

they aren't enough

But they're something

Life after fire

growth within ash

And these words aren't human

but a promise of our humanity

Because they ask me when was the last time we were human?

And all I can respond is

today, today,

today my people are human.

Today, I'm human  

(artwork by Janis Yerington, my mother, for my bat mitzvah)