bronze and ash

a crumpled, upturned steamer trunk
lies at the head of a black cobble path--
across the path is a toddler's shoe
I must squat to touch the strap of the trunk--

no, it’s not leather, it’s bronze, like the shoe
and the smashed violin, mangled eyeglasses
and trampled prayer book, strewn along the cobbles--
that leads to a semicircular black granite wall.

a rock, under which is buried ashes--
from Chelmno, Treblinka, Sobibor, Belzec, Majdanek
and Auschwitz-Birkenau--
anchors the right end of the wall

Nearby stands a fir tree
whose trunk I cannot span with outstretched arms
I am beyond weeping.