SCHADENFREUDE For the dead and the living, we must bear witness. Elie Wiesel Seder here, and drear— no cedars and still we must pretend to fend. Our herd— snared like hares— under thunder clouds, torn asunder, like the cur, fenced, dense, in cars with bars. The smell of dread on every head, dear heads sheared too near ears, now sere and red, filled with fear— the cadent cars careen hard, and on. A cadre of life-enders uses rude canes to search; they sneer and we hear the never-ending rending. Their deeds need no seer feeding our reading. The farce ceased, we cede our shards of free, defrauded with sheafs that seem serene, we dare to care not how we fare. On we share our serenade express. ©2021 S.E.Ingraham
Author’s Statement
The main idea for this poem came from two others I have posted at the late Reuben Woolley’s site:
“I Am Not A Silent Poet.” The first, about a French Resistance worker and anthropologist, “If I Could Choose To Be Anyone, I’d Be Germaine Tillion,” the second, based loosely on whistle-blowers, Big Brother Is Watching, And Listening, And Taking Notes. I also found words and phrases from an article from Rick Steves’ latest travel book entitled The Benefits of Friends in Holy Places, which carried me further into the poem, as did notes I made when on a trip to Germany, especially a visit while there to Dachau.
Bio
S.E.Ingraham continues to write from Canada’s most northern provincial capital: Edmonton, Alberta. She feels she’s been lucky during this year of years (a Pandemic qualifies as such, she believes) in that part of her family – one daughter and granddaughter live in a suite in her house, so her cohorts, including her husband, number five, and she gets waited on and sees more family than some. With Zoom and other social media, she maintains a somewhat normal life.
30 for 30 is sponsored by Potomac Review
