ANNY'S VISITATION.

A GHOSTLY VISITOR.

Anny enters the room
And places her small

Ghostly hand on your
Broad shoulder as you

Sit in front of your pc
And its blank screen.

Are you writing a poem
About me again? She

Asks gazing over your
Shoulder, her child’s

Fingers fidgeting on
the shoulder‘s cloth.

Maybe, you reply
Turning and looking

At her blue eyes and
Blonde hair, wondering

If you were imagining
Her of if she was really

There, her other small
Hand twirling her curls.

I’ve watched you before,
She says, but you didn’t

See me as I peered over
Your shoulder as the words

Appeared on the machine
Magically coming from

Nowhere and you speaking
In that deep baritone of

Yours. She pauses, runs
Her finger across the screen,

Wiping away dust, making
It clean. You want to ask

About her life, Auschwitz
And other things, but the

Words won’t come and her
Blonde hair and blue eyes,

Seemingly real begin to
Fade, as words appear on

The blank screen as if by
Magic: I, Anny Yolande

Horowitz died at Auschwitz,
Aged nine years, how tragic.

Author's Note

ANNY DIED IN AUSCHWITZ IN 1942.

Reviews

[Another Relic]

I thought the previous poem on Anny was excellent and I like the way you've described her resurgence in this poem. The picture is always haunting and the way you've translated your internal conversation with her is also moving. Great job.

If you were imagining
Her (or) if she was really