Holocaust Poem of the Day: Liberation

“It was, incredibly, a complete anti-climax. This moment, on which all my thought and secret wishes had been concentrated for three years, evoked neither gladness nor, for that matter, any other feelings inside me.” – Filip Müller

Behind the barbed wire web,

the dead looked more alive than

those who clutched to the fence

with their bruised and bleeding hands.

Rot, feces, ash, and dust

suffocated the stench

of diesel fumes billowing

from the Sherman tanks.

Polish, German, Yiddish,

and Hebrew pleading bled

into the ears of the terrified

and appalled liberators

who could do nothing more

than torture the Jews. 

The soldiers searched one another

for any food they could find –

fresh, frozen, or otherwise.

But before the morsels could be

passed to cracked lips

the allied doctors rushed

to barricade the camp saying,

“Too little food and they die!

Too much food and they die!”

About Filip Müller

Deported from Sered, Czechoslovakia, Filip Muller (#29236) worked for three years as a prisoner in the “Sonderkommando” in the gas chambers and crematoria of Auschwitz. Every day he saw the flames extinguished of many, now forgotten, candles. Frequently writing notes about his experiences, Müller spent years after his liberation trying to educate all those who would listen to his account but he did not compile and publish his testimony until 1970 under the title Eyewitness Auschwitz: Three Years in the Gas Chambers (Ivan R. Dee, Publishers: Chicago (IL), 1979). Müller has lived in Western Europe since 1969.

Holocaust Poem of the Day: Rachmones IV

“But what I could not imagine was how so many people could have been killed at one time.” – Filip Müller

Would Kaddish be said for those

who passed before his eyes?

Was it his duty to say Kaddish?

He would say Kaddish every evening;

pray for forgiveness every morning;

and ask to die on his way to work.

He lived on the hope that, someday,

his prayers would be answered…

all of them. But when he placed

the bodies in the furnace he knew

that if he did not do it someone else

would have to – for good or bad –

this was his job.

* * * *

The scars on his hands from

the furnace door still carried the smell

of flesh years after Auschwitz.

* * * *

At first he believed G-d had a plan;

then, a plan without G-d; now, G-d

will grant his people life but will not

save the life of each person – he knew

they must save each other and save themselves.

He passed time with hope – maybe

his wife has survived, maybe

his children are still alive – but

the hours felt different. Each

minute had something absent;

each second contained a void.

Somehow he knew his family

was shattered but hope was all

he had and they could not

take that away from him.

About Filip Müller

Deported from Sered, Czechoslovakia, Filip Muller (#29236) worked for three years as a prisoner in the “Sonderkommando” in the gas chambers and crematoria of Auschwitz. Every day he saw the flames extinguished of many, now forgotten, candles. Frequently writing notes about his experiences, Müller spent years after his liberation trying to educate all those who would listen to his account but he did not compile and publish his testimony until 1970 under the title Eyewitness Auschwitz: Three Years in the Gas Chambers (Ivan R. Dee, Publishers: Chicago (IL), 1979). Müller has lived in Western Europe since 1969.

Holocaust Poem of the Day: The Prayers of a Mussulman

“Now, when I watched my fellow countrymen walk into the gas chamber, brave, proud and determined, I asked myself what sort of life it would be for me in the unlikely event of my getting out of the camp alive. What would await me if I returned to my native town?” – Filip Müller

In the haze of July smoke

the screams seemed silent

as voices strained to swim

through the humidity.

The words of stained dialect

remained clear in the ears

of Filip’s head as he lay

recovering from slumber.

His own words pierced the echoes,

“G-d, why have you allowed me

to wake? Why am I to work

another day? Why do you allow

your people to die and burn?

Why do I have to be the last

to look into their clouded eyes

as I carry their pink dyed bodies

to the ovens? Why all this?

About Filip Müller

Deported from Sered, Czechoslovakia, Filip Muller (#29236) worked for three years as a prisoner in the “Sonderkommando” in the gas chambers and crematoria of Auschwitz. Every day he saw the flames extinguished of many, now forgotten, candles. Frequently writing notes about his experiences, Müller spent years after his liberation trying to educate all those who would listen to his account but he did not compile and publish his testimony until 1970 under the title Eyewitness Auschwitz: Three Years in the Gas Chambers (Ivan R. Dee, Publishers: Chicago (IL), 1979). Müller has lived in Western Europe since 1969.

Holocaust Poem of the Day: The Dead Elders

“The damp stench of dead bodies and a cloud of stifling, biting smoke surged out toward us.” – Filip Müller

Wilting under the Sunday snow,

Filip choked on the dry gray –

his parched lungs longed

to feel humidity in the heat.

Filip had been burning evidence

for a week when “the secret” was

exposed to his skin. The elders

were the only ones refreshed

by the gray and pink flesh – seniority

determined by their time at Auschwitz.

Anyone over a year old was

considered close to death – only

ten elders indulged in the secret.

By the time Filip reached

six months old he held a place of

honor as a well established elder.

Filip would grasp the handle and,

with a quick twist and pull,

expose the boiling body within.

Despite the gagging stench,

the humidity of blood, muscle, and fat

moistened their eyes, lips, and lungs.

This was the only way they knew how

a crematoria worker could give back,

give life, give comfort, to his fellow

workers and inmates and family.

About Filip Müller

Deported from Sered, Czechoslovakia, Filip Muller (#29236) worked for three years as a prisoner in the “Sonderkommando” in the gas chambers and crematoria of Auschwitz. Every day he saw the flames extinguished of many, now forgotten, candles. Frequently writing notes about his experiences, Müller spent years after his liberation trying to educate all those who would listen to his account but he did not compile and publish his testimony until 1970 under the title Eyewitness Auschwitz: Three Years in the Gas Chambers (Ivan R. Dee, Publishers: Chicago (IL), 1979). Müller has lived in Western Europe since 1969.

Holocaust Poem of the Day: Nazi Gold Rush

“One evening towards the end of October I went on night duty as one of a team of 100 prisoners. Together with another few experienced prisoners I was picked for this team by Kapo Kaminsky and instructed to organize valuables, if possible.” – Filip Müller

No one objected to contributing

to the Nazi gold rush.

The metal table remained unscrubbed –

thousands of stains the same crimson color.

Every body was mined – some held

nothing while others held fillings of gold.

These precious metals were

pried from behind limp lips.

Once all extractions were made,

the nuggets were sent

to be melted in a crucible

while the flesh was retrieved

to be burned in the furnace.

Filip lifted the countless bodies

from the table. The cold blood,

now more purple than red,

dripped from his stained fingers

and rolled slowly down the drain

in the center of the slab.

Disgraced in death and abused in life –

Filip slowly and meticulously

repeated Kaddish for these people –

these people who had no evidence

of torture during their lives or after death.

The only proof of their existence

was the effect they had on others

and the testimony of those

who witnessed their life… and death.

Their body and blood was

property to their murderers but

their faith and dedication was

a gift to G-d and every other Jew.

Yes, they did exist.

About Filip Müller

Deported from Sered, Czechoslovakia, Filip Muller (#29236) worked for three years as a prisoner in the “Sonderkommando” in the gas chambers and crematoria of Auschwitz. Every day he saw the flames extinguished of many, now forgotten, candles. Frequently writing notes about his experiences, Müller spent years after his liberation trying to educate all those who would listen to his account but he did not compile and publish his testimony until 1970 under the title Eyewitness Auschwitz: Three Years in the Gas Chambers (Ivan R. Dee, Publishers: Chicago (IL), 1979). Müller has lived in Western Europe since 1969.

Holocaust Poem of the Day: Baruch Hashem

“Even before the bottom bar had been unbolted both wings of the double doors were bulging to the outside under the weight of the bodies.” – Filip Müller

The Hasidim seemed to stroll

from the crammed cattle cars.

The black dressed crowd was three,

if not four, generations deep.

They walked knowing what

was going to happen but without

any final words passed from

father to son or from son to father.

Their last words were reserved

for G-d, “Baruch Hashem.”

Two brief words repeated

every three steps – stated simply

without anger or fear or hatred or

remorse to quiver their voices.

The only audible emotion was relief.

Filip watched in disbelief as these

learned and faithful men walked

with deliberate steps; following

orders without having to be told twice.

Their somber gait announced

the knowledge of their fate.

The men disappeared as Filip

sealed the gas chamber door.

The hissing pipes rattled and

screaming coughs commenced.

Echoes faded to faithful whispers

giving way to last exhaled

gasps which rang in Filip’s ears.

He broke the seal to the chamber and

continued the work that gave him breath

but took away his life. It took thirty

minutes to clear the mounds

of humanity pressing their lips

to the door for one last breath.

There was not a single body

in these mangled mounds

which was not bruised, scraped,

cut, crushed, or broken. But now

they lay without pain or pulse.

Once the last of these piles had been

removed, Filip peered into the shattered

room. Near the middle generations

of Hasidim lay on their backs with

their faces, calm and clean,

peacefully facing G-d.

About Filip Müller

Deported from Sered, Czechoslovakia, Filip Muller (#29236) worked for three years as a prisoner in the “Sonderkommando” in the gas chambers and crematoria of Auschwitz. Every day he saw the flames extinguished of many, now forgotten, candles. Frequently writing notes about his experiences, Müller spent years after his liberation trying to educate all those who would listen to his account but he did not compile and publish his testimony until 1970 under the title Eyewitness Auschwitz: Three Years in the Gas Chambers (Ivan R. Dee, Publishers: Chicago (IL), 1979). Müller has lived in Western Europe since 1969.

Holocaust Poem of the Day: Bar Mitzvah

“Our life of isolation continued. For, although we did not realize this at first, we had become privy to a secret and were no longer allowed to come into contact with other prisoners or with SS men not in the know. That was why we no longer attended roll-call.” – Filip Müller

In the illuminated darkness two

candles sizzled in the humid air

struggling to maintain their flame.

The youngest girl in the room

stood watch by the window

to make sure that silence

was all the guards could hear.

David hunched over his Torah portion

trying to remember the rhythm of the chant.

He shivered as his voice

quivered his whispers.

Slowly, the Hebrew

was liberated from his lips.

The Rabbi stood and shook his hand

welcoming him as part

of the shrinking minyan.

Filip listened from across the camp

as shouts of “Mazel Tov” echoed

from one building to another

as the guards turned their heads

in the direction of the celebration.

Some troops smiled and enjoyed

the rare moment of happiness

while others grinned knowing

they would all be quiet soon enough.

About Filip Müller

Deported from Sered, Czechoslovakia, Filip Muller (#29236) worked for three years as a prisoner in the “Sonderkommando” in the gas chambers and crematoria of Auschwitz. Every day he saw the flames extinguished of many, now forgotten, candles. Frequently writing notes about his experiences, Müller spent years after his liberation trying to educate all those who would listen to his account but he did not compile and publish his testimony until 1970 under the title Eyewitness Auschwitz: Three Years in the Gas Chambers (Ivan R. Dee, Publishers: Chicago (IL), 1979). Müller has lived in Western Europe since 1969.

Holocaust Poem of the Day: Rachmones III

“It took some time before I began to realize that there were people lying there at my feet who had been killed only a short while before.” – Filip Müller

Their pressed uniforms

stood out like blood on

a veined marble head stone.

The ash and snow mixed

under their feet. Each soldier

weighed more than two

or three prisoners combined.

Tissue stretched taut between

bones – he no longer knew

how people could still be alive.

The line between life

and death began to fray.

Singed with the scent of silence.

Pink skin now gray ash.

The smell of blackened flesh

turned his barren stomach.

After months of touching

the hands of the dead

he began to envy those

he saw gasping for air.

He wished it would be over.

He could no longer remember

what fresh air tasted like.

The air would forever remain

dry and thick in his lungs –

this is what it is like to taste sorrow.

Haunted by the whispers only

G-d was meant to hear.

When he was younger,

he used to be afraid

to go to sleep; now

he was afraid to wake up.

About Filip Müller

Deported from Sered, Czechoslovakia, Filip Muller (#29236) worked for three years as a prisoner in the “Sonderkommando” in the gas chambers and crematoria of Auschwitz. Every day he saw the flames extinguished of many, now forgotten, candles. Frequently writing notes about his experiences, Müller spent years after his liberation trying to educate all those who would listen to his account but he did not compile and publish his testimony until 1970 under the title Eyewitness Auschwitz: Three Years in the Gas Chambers (Ivan R. Dee, Publishers: Chicago (IL), 1979). Müller has lived in Western Europe since 1969.

Holocaust Poem of the Day: Sabbath Gassing

“I went to the pillar near which the girls had talked to me. There I found the girl Yana who had asked me to take off her necklace and give it to her lover as a last keepsake. She lay where she had said she would. I took off the necklace, pocketed it and left the room.” – Filip Müller

They walked through the doors

with their right hands raised

looking to brush their kissed fingers

against the mezuzah that was not there.

The showers were used in solitude.

No guards in the room.

This was their time to destroy silence.

The sun set with the

latching of the double doors.

The Sabbath greetings began.

“Shabbat Shalom!”

Voices repeated,

muting the constant echoes.

The dialogue ceased as

the air became thick and

their bodies remained dry.

The pipes did not

flush with water –

they hissed with gas

as the screaming began.

About Filip Müller

Deported from Sered, Czechoslovakia, Filip Muller (#29236) worked for three years as a prisoner in the “Sonderkommando” in the gas chambers and crematoria of Auschwitz. Every day he saw the flames extinguished of many, now forgotten, candles. Frequently writing notes about his experiences, Müller spent years after his liberation trying to educate all those who would listen to his account but he did not compile and publish his testimony until 1970 under the title Eyewitness Auschwitz: Three Years in the Gas Chambers (Ivan R. Dee, Publishers: Chicago (IL), 1979). Müller has lived in Western Europe since 1969.

Holocaust Poem of the Day: Rachmones II

“Behind it a round red-brick chimney rose up into the sky.” – Filip Müller

The handle sizzled in

his snow chapped palm.

As he pulled the furnace door

he could hear the air caress

the ashen body within.

He paused. The bitter taste

of parched flesh

seized his muscles.

The guard turned and began

a slow walk in Filip’s direction.

In his eyes, sinister delight

glowed brighter as he inched

toward ‘his’ inmate.

His neck bulged as his arm

rose and his fist clenched.

Filip pulled the iron door open

but he could not avoid the assault.

About Filip Müller

Deported from Sered, Czechoslovakia, Filip Muller (#29236) worked for three years as a prisoner in the “Sonderkommando” in the gas chambers and crematoria of Auschwitz. Every day he saw the flames extinguished of many, now forgotten, candles. Frequently writing notes about his experiences, Müller spent years after his liberation trying to educate all those who would listen to his account but he did not compile and publish his testimony until 1970 under the title Eyewitness Auschwitz: Three Years in the Gas Chambers (Ivan R. Dee, Publishers: Chicago (IL), 1979). Müller has lived in Western Europe since 1969.

Holocaust Poem of the Day: Job

“I was like one hypnotized and obeyed each order implicitly. Fear of more blows, the ghastly sight of piled-up corpses, the biting smoke, the humming of fans and the flickering of flames, the whole infernal chaos had paralysed my sense of orientation as well as my ability to think.” – Filip Müller

The wooden doors slid to the right

and unnumbered inmates were

forced in to the mass of humanity.

The fire hose hissed as droplets

fell and froze to their lips.

They patiently shuffled their feet

across sheets of crystallized tears.

Their clothes stiff with icy sweat.

The able bodied were embroidered

with needled ink. Their numbers

stripped them of nearly everything,

leaving only that which damned them:

their blood and their faith.

Filip was chosen to live;

chosen to watch others die;

chosen to stay warm on

the coldest days as families,

towns, and villages were

reduced to smoke and ash.

His breath choked thick

with the tribes and lineage

of every Jew. This was a test

Job was never forced to endure.

About Filip Müller

Deported from Sered, Czechoslovakia, Filip Muller (#29236) worked for three years as a prisoner in the “Sonderkommando” in the gas chambers and crematoria of Auschwitz. Every day he saw the flames extinguished of many, now forgotten, candles. Frequently writing notes about his experiences, Müller spent years after his liberation trying to educate all those who would listen to his account but he did not compile and publish his testimony until 1970 under the title Eyewitness Auschwitz: Three Years in the Gas Chambers (Ivan R. Dee, Publishers: Chicago (IL), 1979). Müller has lived in Western Europe since 1969.

Holocaust Poem of the Day: Rachmones I

“We had been running for about 100 metres, when a strange flat-roofed building loomed up before us.” – Filip Müller

In the distance, with the air

above the stacks still,

ovens stood in industrial

innocence within their brick

and mortar womb.

The furnace lay cold and gray

with its cast iron door swung open,

and waited to receive the next Jew –

to embrace them in its crucible heart.

In silent slavery and in slumber

the bodies kept flowing past

Filip like a swollen stream.

Ice and snow singed his feet.

The inhumanity of the inanimate.

About Filip Müller

Deported from Sered, Czechoslovakia, Filip Muller (#29236) worked for three years as a prisoner in the “Sonderkommando” in the gas chambers and crematoria of Auschwitz. Every day he saw the flames extinguished of many, now forgotten, candles. Frequently writing notes about his experiences, Müller spent years after his liberation trying to educate all those who would listen to his account but he did not compile and publish his testimony until 1970 under the title Eyewitness Auschwitz: Three Years in the Gas Chambers (Ivan R. Dee, Publishers: Chicago (IL), 1979). Müller has lived in Western Europe since 1969.