In Seventeen Hundred and Forty Nine br A long ago lost relation of mine br Sailed from Germany br Never to return. br Across tormented seas br He launched his spirits br Cast his dreams br To set foot at last br On soil Philadelphia br And in the decades furling hence br His blood traversed br At last to me br A legacy he could not foresee br To be German br In the twentieth century. br br I look in horror br Celluloid clips br Detached and yet br Somehow connected br Of mutilations, deaths br Atrocities br Committed by an alien hand br The bony fingers stretched br In accusation br My blood revolts br Impassioned by the faint “Sieg Heils” br Still drumming through the marrow br The cold hard stamp of jack boot feet br The crisp salutes, heels clicking on cement br Jawohl! Jawohl! Jawohl! br Sieg Heil! ! br br Awakened in the dead of sleep br Sweat dripping from the chin br Fingers clutch the windpipe br Eyes wide in disbelief br Six million lie in unmarked graves br We weep our disremembered tears br And in our righteous seeming fury br Cry what devil hath made you German! br br ‘Twas enough to be a man. br br br (Previously published in Ygdrasil, Nov.