Selected Piece - Poetry

by - Casey Nyvall, New York

I walk the risk of being alive
Running is for children
And I am my great-grandmother
A frail old woman
With a thick accent
And no sisters or cousins left
And stories of Germany.

I walk the risk of being alive
The world runs it for me
Moving quickly, leaving me behind
So they can say my culture is archaic
Since it has not died, though they have tried to kill it
But I can take my time
Walk the desert for forty more years
Surely there’s some scenery I missed.

I walk the risk of being alive
Of cheering “L’Chaim”
And meaning it
My ancestors did not get killed
So I could squander days and nights
And stop along the path
Because I am tired of small hardships.

I walk the risk of being alive
Because death is what they want of me
And they have gorged themselves on death already
In Spain, at Kristallnacht, in Birkenau and Nova
And I am a spiteful creature
So I will live.

I walk the risk of being alive
Because I have much work still to do
And when I close my eyes
I remember
Neshamas littered in the snow,
Bones on their way to be burned
I have six million murders to avenge
And I will do it
by living.