Theresienstadt Ghetto Symphony

( After Rita Dove )

Some played harmoniously  
in the face of tragedy;    
others, absurdly out of sync    
regardless of advantages      
     
Despite how we observe    
or innately judge. . .    
both inevitably belonged—    
captive and guard    
     
Inside each cavernous soul    
exists a desire to complement    
the mastery of music—    
     
to be fondly remembered      
a dedicated creator, or just part    
of something greater—    
     
as space between notes    
holding sound together—      
     
to taste the rarity of beauty    
from a vast hunger;    
our biorhythm surviving    
the odds of injustice—    
     
defiantly humming  
in gratitude    
   
If music be the food of love  
play on.*  
~