Learning to Read Schindler's List

he had one arm
but he was important:
"an integral part of the work force,"
like me when i was little, and i knew
the whole book, but couldn't read.
the words were always different;
the story never changed
and people chuckled; it was cute. i would learn.
they laughed at him because he knew the motions
only.
he would never learn,

and he thanked Schindler.
i cried
for his hunched mass of gratitude,
the good worker
who wasn't able to do a thing.

his eyes told me a story
i didn't have to read,
a story even he didn't know
and i cried because he couldn't do a thing.

and then the Gestapo came
and he told them
he was important:
"an integral part of the work force,"
and they laughed
and he cried for help,
and a yellow star stained with blood
was the only story left for me to know -
the same words,
never changing,
and my parents are proud
because now
i can read.

by B. S., New City, NY