Reliant on Memories #tribute #poetry #WW2

Reliant on memories

we never made

I was young

when laid in the grave

*

Reliant on memories

a girls first kiss

all the loves

that we would miss

*

Reliant on memories

the way I laughed

you’ll always have

don’t hold it back

*

Reliant on memories

a piece of me

will always stay

alive and free

*

Reliant on memories

will have to do

I will live on

because you made it through

***

My poem is in tribute to a poet and heroine  Hanna Szenes whose birthday is today.

Hanna a gifted poet was a brave young woman who believed in a cause. On March 1944 she parachuted into Yugoslavia on a mission to help rescue Hungarian Jews about to be deported to Auschwitz. She was caught on the Hungarian border and tortured (by the Germans) with the hope of gaining valuable information. Because she would not give information, they imprisoned her mother as well. While captive, she looked for ways (like a mirror) to send encouragement to fellow prisoners. Hanna was executed in November 1944 by a firing squad and remembered as a heroine of Israel. She was 23 at her death.

These are the words of one of her last poems:

Blessed is the match consumed in kindling flame

Blessed is the flame that burns in the secret fastness of the heart.

Blessed is the heart with strength to stop its beating for honor’s sake.

Blessed is the match consumed in kindling flame.

.

More about Hannah here.

When We Were Young #microfiction

going off to war changes youth

We were just kids then though we felt we could change the world

The boys were already leaving in their shiny new blues or greens for another land

giggling as they went

knowing when they returned the letter jacket would be replaced with a band of gold for the girls

Some smiles grew wiser as they opened each new account

Others lost their smiles completely when the horrid news came out

And now the eyes remaining

glisten with a wisdom not all their own

We never knew survival would extract such a precious toll

This great prompt came from Tess Kincaid over at Magpie Tales

It Fit Well in Her Hands

The Leica camera fit well in her hands. It was so sleek compared to her old Brownie. She was an amateur photographer studying photo journalism. She’d been told the Leica would be a good camera to start her career with. She couldn’t afford a new camera; her aunt, while touring in Europe, picked up the camera for a song. Things in Europe after the war were still tight; each country picking up the pieces the best they knew how.

Though she had no manual, Terese instinctively knew how to use the camera. “Now if I can shoot something that I can get in a newspaper – any newspaper.’ There were so many times she wished she had been a man. So far she had been sent out to shoot a modeling session, back stage when the ballet came into town, a business grand opening. She wanted to be in the ‘seedy’ parts of town when “all hell broke loose.”

As she stroked her Leica, she dreamed of getting the perfect shot that would grace the cover of Newsweek and gain her notoriety. Something she was noticing; she was getting her photography in her university’s  paper weekly and the Examiner had a few of her best –  not on the front page. Not yet.

“We will do this won’t we?” – She said sweetly to her Leica.

She always felt her Leica had a personality of its own; she included it in her plans.

A magazine contacted her editor and asked if they could use several of her shots from a story she had covered about demonstrations. Then it happened – she was shopping in the Haight district when there was a huge drug bust. She captured the police and the hippies in a tangle. ‘Too bad you can’t capture odors’, she thought.  “The air reeked of pot.” Newsweek wanted the story;  she, alone, had the full story  in pictures. It wasn’t the cover of Newsweek. Not yet.

She was developing some of her pictures from a recent tour of historical houses and buildings in San Francisco. She always developed her own photos. If she messed up, no one to blame but herself. “These aren’t mine,” she fumed as she looked at pictures of people standing in a line. “They aren’t even this era. Where did these come from?” Her curiosity got the best of her as she developed the negatives.

The pictures, a dozen of them, told a story of people wearing ragged clothes and stars on their sleeves. Hundreds were lined up, along the edge of a ditch, in a forested area. Cars were on the edge, of the scene, with swastikas on the car doors. She gasped “genocide.” When she was finished, she hung up the pictures on her drying line to tell the story. One of the pictures was the face of a man as blood spurted from his head. He didn’t have a star on his sleeve but he was wearing a badge.  She couldn’t read what it said. She blew up the picture. It had a name: Thomas Dewy- London Times. “Could this have been the original owner of her Leica?” she thought as a cold shiver embraced her- leaving none too soon.

This was not the last time her haunted Leica gave her pictures of the atrocities of WWII; in the end she was able to help chronicle the terrible scenes of the Holocaust with the help of her endeared friend. Teresa not only got her dream of a cover shot on Newsweek; she always seemed to have the best shots of “history in the making.”

When her husband bought her a brand new Olympus for her birthday, she smiled warmly then patted the Leica around her neck. She didn’t need a new camera – Not yet.

Little did she know, when she was starting out,  that her Leica Thambar 90mm would become  a rare collector’s item. Only three thousand of them in the world. Her little Leica was rarer; a one of a kind camera.

This week’s theme is camera. For more great stories go to Theme Thursday

Photo from Leica Gallery

(http://us.leica-camera.com/culture/history)

rivrvlogr

Looking ahead, without looking back (too often)

mrswrangler

Thanks for following a cowgirl on her crazy life journey.

Maria Michaela Poetry

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. - Edgar Allan Poe

A Unique Title For Me

Hoping to make the world more beautiful

Writer Ravenclaw

Books by author Diana Coombes

Some View on the World

With previous posting of "Our World" on Blogger

I Write Her

my humanity in written form

Reena Saxena

Experiments in Creative Writing, and more ....

michnavs

Poetry by Mich

Love13Reading

FOR READERS AND ASPIRING WRITERS

radhikasreflection

Everyday musings ....Life as I see it.......my space, my reflections and thoughts !!

The Children's and Teens' Book Connection

From Board Books to Clean YA

Trisha Faye

Cherishing the Past while Celebrating the Present

MOM AND IDEAS

FROM ONE PARENT TO ANOTHER

Therapy Bits

Living life with dissociative identity disorder and complex ptsd

Brizzy Mays Books and Bruschetta

Predominately Books But Other Stuff Too

Monty’s Blahg

Home of Monty Vern

Faith Builders with Philip and Michelle Steele

Building your faith and framing your world by the Word of God