There are seven stages of grief
The first being denial
We deny that we are here
In this hell on Earth
We deny that some of our family members have been taken into the hands of death
We deny that we went through what we went through
In hopes that we will forget it ever happened
The second is the pain
The pain comes when it finally hits
Your family is dead
You will never be that same happy kid as you once were
The happy-go-lucky kid you were before the camps
The realization that your body will never work the same way
The next is anger
The frustration you have been holding back
Not at the Nazis or the Germans
You are frustrated at yourself
You are mad at yourself for being in that situation
You do not know why you are mad at yourself
But you refuse to place the blame anywhere else
The next stage is depression
The hole in your heart where your happiness used to lain
The realization that you are now by yourself and there is no one who will understand you anymore
No one will speak the language that us survivors speak
No matter how good of a therapist you are
It is a foreign language only select few speak
There is another stage we went through
The upward turns
The realization that you will be ok
You realize that you do not need your family to be ok
You do not need anyone who survived with you
You only need yourself
And that is all you have
There is another stage
This being particularly the hardest
It is working in an everyday life
With your new setbacks and PTSD
The new you starts to work properly
There is one more stage
It is acceptance
You finally accept what happened
You accept the fact that everything that you went through
Is not fiction
It is real life
You accept the fact that we went through inhumane treatments and tortures
And we accept all of it
We realize and accept that we were almost all killed off
Weather by sickness or ******
We accept we were the lucky ones
And never look back

I won’t lie.
Once those eyes met mine,
I imagined.
When I watched you run your hands through your hair multiple times,
I daydreamed.
But when I saw that genuine smile and laugh you gave once I made you laugh,
I fell.

it's crazy to think
some people's lives just started
some people's lives just ended
all over the world.
a celebration of life has begun
a mourning of death has begun.
no matter your age
no matter what stage of life,
everyone's still learning.
experiencing
healing
growing
making mistakes
maturing.
sure some have it easier than others
sure some have it harder than others
but in the end,
we have the chance to live
to live as in to be present.
we are here on this earth
while others aren't
recognize your opportunity
to be.

Humans
of different ages
learning and experiencing
growing and evolving
through different stages

The womb is a tomb
              of contemplation.

Where birth is a reality,
                of perspective.

And death is a realisation,
             that nothing lasts forever.

My existence weighs heavy today,
Heavier than any moment to precede it.
I must decide now what will be my way,
If I shall rise to victory or remain defeated.
But in all truth, I feel not afraid.
Other challenges, I have vanquished
Lacking that languished hand of aid.
Yes, life is my special stage.
I shall revel in it's light,
As well as that of my new age.

It’s funny,
I’ve tread the boards before .
Yet somehow,
The stages feel very different.

The funny thing about grief
Is the brittle nature
Of the acts you battle through,
Back and forth,
Round and round.

Denial is my personal favourite
Because for that time,
Nothing is real.
Within the eye of the storm
You feel almost safe somehow,
And yet,
Before long
Anger bubbles.

Effervescent rage takes over,
And screaming, shouting, swearing at the world
Is the only course of recompense.
For everything is wrong,
Everything is pain,
And it sears white hot
Through all doubt.
But
It only lasts for so long,
So you beg,

You bargain for some peace;
Some change of circumstance,
Some hope.
Anything you have to offer,
Everything in fact.
For you are tired,
So very tired,
And the unfairness of it all
Weighs heavy on your heart.

So heavy depression creeps in
And as you lie awake at night,
The black dog crushing your chest,
You question everything.
How you could ever hope
To pull through this cloud?
You question,
If you could ever see the sun again?

They are painful
Whirling round and round
Flipping back and forth
Replaying the scenes
Painful and necessary
For the grief appears
For many reasons

And a knife in the back;
The heartache that follows,
Is kin to this storm.
I know there is one more act to play
But I haven’t learnt my lines
I’m not ready for opening night

I have no acceptance yet.

God, this hurts.
It's terrible and heart-wrenching.
To believe the moments we had weren't worth anything.
Or were they?
I have trouble discerning.
I wanted love that didn't make me feel patronized, used, discarded, and broken.
Would it make me happy?
Would it make me feel more alive to be away from you?
Would I find someone that deserves me?
How can I say this respectfully?
Without putting down our moments together?
I hate you.
I hate you so much to the point that I want you out of my life.
To the point I can say "You can die!" ad I wouldn't care.
You made me bare,
all my emotions and time,
while you sat in silence.
This is when I CAN'T remember.
These were the moments I CAN'T surrender.
Therefore, I smile when I look at you but feel like throwing up in a corner.

-on the spirit of passion

My life had ended, so I felt,
when your eyes found mine.
You dragged me up to heaven
- the heat caused my will to melt.

My reborn self drowned in your beaming eyes.
Your ardent face steamed away my flesh;
my spirit, pure and longing, stood naked
- only at your service now, only yours my ties.

Let me take the final step, I cried.
Unshackle my heart, unwrap my love,
undo the border between you and me
- our nova will disrupt all selfhood that we hide.

My love flamed high towards your feet above.
It burned itself and turned to ashes,
its sole remainder its humiliated, aching root
- and still a new twig grows from the stump of love.

How could I ignore your whispering song?
The voice of your leaves filled my head,
you took my hands, you bowed my knees -
a gardener's prayer makes a tender love grow strong.

A storm shook my spine and my sacrosanct place!
The more I pressed my face against your trunk,
the clearer I saw two radiating planets rise
- attracting me with liberating gaze.

It's you, and you, and you, my beloved friends,
it's the asking glance we see in each and all.
My life has ended with my questions now -
now that your responding eyes found mine.