Sara Atzmon

Those energies that are buried there in the mass graves are bubbling from under the earth. The stormy colors of autumn with all the intensity of bubbly lives.
They seem to dance the dance of life, not fighting the Angel of Death, the one we were so scared of his visits!
When we approached the "tranquility" fields, our feeling was of coming to a friend's reunion. I saw the stream of people rushing to the silent stone wall, where different languages were engraved telling things that words couldn't have described. I looked at the fields where entire worlds had been sown. Worlds of love, hopes for happy lives that had been dreamt by wonderful people. I felt as though their souls were hovering above and had come to the reunion with us.
Like all the others I had expected to see there the guests that were so afraid to meet their wandering ghosts over the mass graves.
The mixture of colors like a flame of a loud scream.
Among the voices: the bass, the piccolo, children's fresh tones, mothers' sopranos. Those men, women and children who had looked the Angel of Death straight in the eye and hadn't been able to overcome him.
What are those spirits bringing to the reunion? Criticism, we didn't help them enough to survive?
Those minutes were very difficult. We had hardly saved ourselves. It sounds maybe corny, but there it simply wasn't at all.
One cannot die for another. Each one of us struggles with his own personal energy.
Just a few of us had had "superior" energies, like my mother, may she rest in peace. She had collected food from whoever had given up a spoon of his food and had given it to the most needy. The most important fact was that she had fed the dying and had transferred her energy to whoever she had succeeded to save. She had almost paid for it with her own life.

I remember the dying people's eyes. They had hope in them and the permanent question: "Will we be able to survive another day?"
I have a memory that keeps coming back to me. It's about a man from our shack (barek). He was standing next to his bed talking to his neighbor. Looking into his eyes I saw, death. Sure enough the next day he had passed away.

We, the children had a game. We made a bet every day: "Who will die tomorrow, the next day, etc?"
We had identified The "Angel" the scary one!
The truth is, that in all reunions we have with us all those spirits attending. Those who were left behind.
We remember them – they're just standing there in front of us.

We are the ones who are carrying those horrible memories and cannot detach ourselves from those sights. We remained to carry the heavy burden of the memories in our dreams, in times of happiness and sorrow.

My dear brothers, they didn't pay with their lives in vain. Their wandering spirits reach us here, to the land they haven't succeeded to come in her gates. We remember and miss them forever!
Our fate is to fight the Jewish wars that have never ceased.
Their graves are living witness to what humanity was able and dared to destroy!

Am I able not to be scared of what distraction are humans able to cause to one another???

Sara Atzmon (Gottdiener)