Shoshana Gold Burakowski
Reliving your journey, as I wrote Hidden Gold,
I understand now, the stories never told.
I metaphorically walked through hell in your shoes,
Through WW2 Poland, with so many other Jews.
You survived the Holocaust, but your pain was too great,
It left you fragile, and sealed your fate.
Your fear never healed, no chance for repair
No breaks for you, life just isn’t fair.
Now it makes sense, your cries in the night,
Your suffering and fear, in nightmares unite.
Waking in panic and gasping for breath,
Realizing it was a dream, not a brush with death.
Enlightened and in awe, I feel closer to you now,
Still shaking my head, and wondering how.
I miss you mom, I wish for one more chance,
To talk, to hug you, and have one more glance.
Mom, I have so much to ask, so much to say,
If only I could have just one more day.
I would hold you so tight and never let go,
But instead all I have is the odd photo.
I was too young to realize, too young to understand.
But all that has changed, as I take your hand,
And walk with you in spirit, today of all days,
I wish you were here to celebrate Mother’s day.
