Camp

By the dull electric lamp

arose a vision so intense,

undimmed by squalor, stench and damp

in that Polish prison camp.

Emblems of their offence,

pink triangle and yellow star,

tattoo just below the sleeve

a hunger for tomorrow,

for reprieve. A hope that 

what began in sorrow

would not end in grief.

A fantasy, the sweet relief of human touch,

the longing that grew so much,

became so great -

the lightest brush seemed profligate.

For dignity of those involved, for all -

they did what dignity demands,

resolved that when their names were called

to go together hand in hand.

In the furnace in the flame

Each heard the others name,

And as the flames burned brighter still

their grip grew tighter

till their fingers intertwined,

tight as their desire

in the furnace in the fire,

Flesh and bone combined.

The heat intensified

then tempered, they found 
release that was denied
and they were one

with ash and embers,

and their hearts were unified.

Listen to Camp here

Camp