Stateless Shades of the Shoah

Ilse Koch - B***h of Buchenwald

 

 

Dreams
of dread -
Buchenwald -
where the lampshades
of unblemished flesh
immortalized the Jews
forevermore for the world
in an eternity of light.
Prisoners were called "Singing Horses,"
and they sang as they marched along Blood Street.

Skinned and tanned, the corpses were discarded,
the finest Jewish leather was wrapped
around the words written in books.
Some have said that Ilse Koch
even wore the soft gloves -
B***h of Buchenwald -
her hands were cold,
her handbag
shedding
tears.

Author's Note

Ilse is a horrible icon of the Holocaust. A Nazi sadist renowned for tormenting prisoners, she was, without question, fascinated with tattooed human skin. Witnesses tell of her selecting inmates for their elaborate tattoos. Once selected, the victims were never seen again but their tattoo designs appeared on all manner of artifacts. Perhaps the most horrid artifacts of all were Ilse’s notorious human lampshades; household appliances to help us see in the dark and to help German officers read Goethe or the poetry of Schiller…

Upon liberation, General Patton forced the German citizens of nearby Weimar to march through Buchenwald and confront the stacks of corpses, the body organ samples, the crematoria – and a single human skin lampshade. When Ilse was brought to trial it was this last piece of evidence to secure the death penalty. But on the eve of Ilse’s trial – the Buchenwald lampshade disappeared.

After serving over 20 years in prison, Ilse was founded dead in her cell at Aichach on September 1, 1967. Her death, by hanging, was ruled a suicide. Today the body of the “Bitch of Buchenwald” lies in an unmarked and untended grave in the cemetery at Aichach.

Reviews

[Beccy]

'More inhumanity (to man) has been done by man himself than any other of nature's causes.' Samuel von Pufendorf, 1673.

The question remaining; will we ever stop?

Beccy.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Doubtful. It seems wherever there is man, there is evil. This is always a sad poem for me to read over the years. To think of it, just makes me sick.

[Mark]

I didn’t know of this… my grandfather was a highly decorated war hero back in his homeland for his services and the lives he saved whilst in the polish rebel forces… but we, his immediate family didn’t know any of it until after he passed away last year… I understand the need he had not to share or relive the atrocities he witnessed.. Though the down side of that was that we (his legacy) were ignorant to the life of the man we called grandpa.

Thank you Linda for sharing this story,
You have a beautiful way with words, the way they flow, your soft voice and amazing imagery…
If I may, I would like to direct you to another poet I feel you would enjoy (for many of the same reasons that I love your writing)

Celestial Light – A Ghost of Myself
http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/TestJack/1454833/

[MsJewel]

Brilliant writing and the form you chose is perfect for your words :) Julie

[TL Boehm]

a gripping raw poem. How easily we forget the atrocities of war or we simply skim over with a polite remark. This poem brings it right back to the forefront. Well done.

[Ian Gilmour]

Wow, this was dark, brooding and not only the subject matter is heavy in itself but you've brought more to it through your poetic insight. Well done!

[Forest Green]

An icon to be sure. Mesmerizing. Defying the horror with sparkles. Quaking is married to shimmering glass, and the awful circumstance, crime, heartlessness, that led to such as this is as much a part of every word as a cold and distant black and white would be.

Stunning achievement!

[Dean]

I hadn't known of Ilse, but her namesakes in the present come to mind! Forgive me, that was a low and underserved blow to most possessers of the name in this day and time, but I could not resist. Thanks for the history lesson about happenings that still make me shudder!

[Chris]

The form was flawless... the thoughts were beyond tears.

[DrD]

I have visited the museum at Buchenwald and learned there the meaning of atrocity. Your work does them honor, my friend. Very, very well done.