a degradation of soul

 Dachau

why be drawn to this ugly place?

all concrete and metal and gravel,

reconstructed dormitories and guard buildings,

all haunted by the wrenching past,

this place efficient and utilitarian-looking, but not beautiful,

the ugliness far worse in the stories told of this place,

of the brutal sadism of its reason for existence,

and of the countless demeaning structures and acts

by people like us done to people like us,

no S.S. member ever penalized for cruelty,

and the perpetrators' psychological makeup?

any study of those lost in such brutality

assiduously avoided as a topic of study,

of papers, of books, at least in Germany,

first, they locked away political prisoners,

those who dared to challenge the Nazis,

even those who just disagreed with small points,

when the war came, more and more were deemed undesirable,

the advancement of the degradation of soul 

not all planned out from the first,

rather the growths blossomed on their own,

like some dark fungus feeding on the underlying hatreds,

and sprouting forth in awful, devolving forms,

people shipped here and to other camps on trains,

because of the need for scapegoats,

the need to blame others for one's own problems,

a slippery slope that easily led to bullets,

to gas chambers, to crematoria to destroy the evidence

of the inhumanity inflicted on those sentenced to be here,

why visit a concrete example of the worst in who we can be?

because every day, everyone makes choices,

we need to see what can happen when we go the wrong way,

our guide, at the end, laments:

"I thought 10 years ago that such atrocity 

might happen somewhere again,

but I knew not in Germany.

I am more fearful now."

I thanked her for her words and care,

and she commented, like teachers can often feel,

that far too often she fears her efforts go nowhere,

but she felt buoyed up by our presence and words,

I told her I thought it was sacred work,

and she let me thank her with a hug.

by Henry H. Walker

September 26, ‘24