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Bremen Cathedral (1997)

Published by Edwina Powell in Personal Stories · 27/8/2014 21:08:28
Tags: English

For my father
Eduard Palmer Bremer,
born Jewish, survivor.

my ancestors came from here,
maybe they were persecuted then, or revered,
maybe they weren’t Jewish, or didn’t like to say,
since anyone called be called heretic, or worse,
forgotten like the Swedish soldier, UNKNOWN
entombed in a dust dry crypt,

he died in a duel.  You could see where the
sword had gone in, below the heart.
And beside him, an old woman, UNKOWN
waiting to be claimed
still grinning three hundred years later,
resting in a oak wood casket.

She  could be a relative,       my distant aunt,
I recognise the face, the black parchment skin,
after all, we share the same history,
war, the slaughter of innocents,
desiccated emotion.

For seventy seven years the door had been sealed shut,
the room forgotten, instructions lost.
like my father, who locked us out
at seventy seven when he knew he was dying,
left us all guessing, while he
pranced about like Rumplestiltskin.

        Eduard Palmer Bremer,
        Born Jewish, survivor.

Maybe the death certificate should read
"dry wound under the heart".




A Memoir of Rudy Bremer by his friend of many years, Maralyn Heathcock

Published by Maralyn Heathcock in Personal Stories · 13/5/2014 21:02:15
Tags: English
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