Today, after reading Kaminksy's poem below, I was thinking of Martin Niemöller. He was a prominent German Lutheran pastor who emerged as an outspoken public foe of Adolf Hitler and spent the last seven years of Nazi rule in concentration camps. He is perhaps best remembered for the quotation which seems timely to me:
First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Socialist.
Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.
I've been thinking:
First they came for the Mexicans, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Mexican.
Then they came for the African Americans, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a African American.
Then they came for the other non-Europeans, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a non-European.
Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me
Because I was not a Mexican.
Then they came for the African Americans, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a African American.
Then they came for the other non-Europeans, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a non-European.
Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me
While I am a Quaker who loves silence (and have even written a book about it's importance!), as the writer of Ecclesiastes says:
There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:
...a time to be silent and a time to speak...
This is not the time for public silence. It is a time to -- with discernment, but not necessarily caution -- to speak.
Town Watches Them Take Alfonso
by Ilya Kaminsky
Now each of us is
a witness stand:
Vasenka watches us watch four soldiers throw Alfonso Barabinski on the sidewalk.
We let them take him, all of us cowards.
What we don’t say
we carry in our suitcases, coat pockets, our nostrils.
Across the street they wash him with fire hoses. First he screams,
then he stops.
So much sunlight—
a t-shirt falls off a clothes line and an old man stops, picks it up, presses it to his face.
Neighbors line up to watch him thrown on a sidewalk like a vaudeville act: Ta Da.
In so much sunlight—
how each of us
is a witness stand:
They take Alfonso
And no one stands up. Our silence stands up for us.
by Ilya Kaminsky
Now each of us is
a witness stand:
Vasenka watches us watch four soldiers throw Alfonso Barabinski on the sidewalk.
We let them take him, all of us cowards.
What we don’t say
we carry in our suitcases, coat pockets, our nostrils.
Across the street they wash him with fire hoses. First he screams,
then he stops.
So much sunlight—
a t-shirt falls off a clothes line and an old man stops, picks it up, presses it to his face.
Neighbors line up to watch him thrown on a sidewalk like a vaudeville act: Ta Da.
In so much sunlight—
how each of us
is a witness stand:
They take Alfonso
And no one stands up. Our silence stands up for us.
"Our silence stands up for us." What canst -- or will -- thou say?
