Erulisse Dances

However ... that being said, and since I passed Post #4000 in my blog a few days ago, I've decided to make it public - at least to those of you who read my blog and posts on DW and LJ. So, to honor my own heritage and the theme of the last writing challenge, here's my second entry for Prompt 4, "The axe forgets; the tree remembers". 

The Axe Forgets but the Tree Remembers - Ukraine and Poland

The missiles and the bombs continue to fall. The spokespeople speak, the newscasters analyze, and the pundits make statements to claim their ten minutes of fame accumulated over multiple sound bites. The photographers have it harder - their documents and fame require in-person experience and presence. All, those reporting and those watching the reports, are affected. All are shaken; but what of my thoughts, my past?

When I think of Ukraine, I think of Babi Yar, that ravine west of Kiev, and the bodies piling up over two days. Men, women and children shot and pushed into the ravine, buried beneath the corpses of the next wave. More than 33,500 Jews killed in that ravine in two days. It was the Nazis perpetrating this atrocity, but it was in Ukraine. The axe doesn't remember, but the tree will never forget.

Then there is the ally to consider. Poland has graciously opened their borders, hearts and homes to more than 2 million Ukrainian refugees. The best of human nature has come to the front. Yet, when I think of Poland, it is not the generosity of today's people; it is the stony and calculated "selective blindness" and turned backs of those in the not-so-distant past -It isn't the welcoming arms of aid workers; it's the looming gates and burning fires of Chelmno, Sobibor, Belzec, Treblinka, Majdanek and Auschwitz-Birkenau that immediately come to my mind. Once again the axe doesn't remember, but the tree will never forget.

As I watch the battles and cheer on the Ukrainians in their fight against the Soviet troops, I also remember the past. While I thank the Polish people for their open hearts and helping hands, I also remember those who were not welcome. I cannot forget the past - the concentration camp where my father's parents found their deaths and the landscapes where my Uncles and Aunts fought with the Resistance against the Nazis. I cannot turn my back on my own history tied up with those horrific places whose names are burned into my memory. The Ukraine and Poland are a part of my personal history, there to remain forever.

I pray for freedom and peace for Ukraine, but I also remember the promises of "never allow this to happen again". To me, these days, it seems as though in some ways, we are doomed to repeat our history and relive our inhumanity again and again. The axe doesn't remember but the tree, my family tree, will never forget.