a name

long not mentioned

by chance scooped out

from the world of ashes

from the gap of memories

emaciated

transparent pale faced

curled up near me under a blanket

on a bunk in 27th block

two weeks after typhoid selection

speaking

absorbed in lovely scenes

about her home about mother

about delicacies which she once ate

I listen

warming myself with her body's warmth

imagining her home

in unknown Sosnowiec

about the fantastic delicacies

- though I was younger, I'd been longer in the camp

they dragged me to Birkenau

from the Warsaw ghetto

and from the gas chamber in Majdanek

we mutually supported each other

in the barrack

a noisy crowd of active prisoners

today there was a dense fog in Auschwitz

awful chill uncommon chance

the command - nobody works today

we can return to our bunks

put to sleep hunger and daydream about the happy past

all of sudden

a kapo at the door

turmoil grows tension

calling out numbers

we were lost in Fruma's tale

maybe they are taking somebody to work

or somebody is being punished

with so many women on the block

we don't pay attention

silence

after the next number is called

furious repeated calls

stopping at half sentence

silently

- jumps of the bunk

near the door she took off her clothes

covering herself with a gray rough blanket

chased in the group of chosen

to the gas

under the blanket

still warm from her body

sounds of touching voice about home

about mother, about mother's cooking

before the eyes behind the barrack

dense smoke from a huge chimney

she was 16 years old and had a delicate pale face

quiet human kindness in this hell on earth

and so much was left of her in me

forever