Poetry

Nadzia's Letters

by

Diana Dominguez

On permanent exhibit - Nadzia's Letters -
A window into the forgotten world
Of Nazi labor camps:

Scanned images of cramped, furtive writing
Smuggled paper, a contraband pen
A digital window into a shameful past

When too many simply looked the other way.

"Yesterday was my birthday.
Gutka and Zytka gave me half their bread during dinner.
Zanna gave me a hand-colored postcard
Bright pink geraniums like the ones mama planted
Every spring outside the kitchen window.
I didn't ask how she got it.
Have you heard from mama?"

"The rain that fell all week has turned to snow.
I have no heavy socks to warm my toes when I work outside.
Zanna did not wake up this morning;
I watched from my window as the guards
Dragged her body across the camp.
Gutka decided I should get Zanna's socks."

"Maybe, my dearest sister, Ludka,
You think I write too many letters.
Do you know why I write so much?
Because as long as I write to you, you are alive
And so am I."

On permanent exhibit - Nadzia's Letters:
A virtual window into a 16-year-old's soul.