The Price of Admission
Were it possible to reverse the excesses, inefficiencies of history —
Its vagaries and insufficiencies and blatant mistakes,
Its shortcomings, in the long haul,
Its odds-off long shots, in the short term, for the success of mankind,
In its race for the gold alchemists spin from base human mettle,
Its aspirations, visions for a future of peace and love —
Surely we'd have seen to it, centuries, millenniums, eons ago,
Taken the necessary steps to ensure its implementation,
Executed the requisite measures leading to harmony and justice.
Were it possible, today,
We could start, anyway, by exacting a higher price of admission
From each one of the million sorrowing, bewildered pilgrims
Who'll visit 263 Prinsengracht, in Amsterdam, this year,
Insist everyone surrender his saddened spirit, at the door,
Restore one Jew lost to the Holocaust,
Not by giving up his life, literally,
But, rather, by volunteering for a miraculous magic trick,
In which a victim is brought back to life, via the visitor's anguish —
A two-for-the-price-of-one mystifying illusion,
Suspended disbelief rendered permanent, an eternal benediction —
So that, six years from now, perhaps sooner,
Every Jew who disappeared could greet those filing through
The hallowed rooms where Anne and the other seven
Waited for liberation to appear, with a wave of the Allies' wand.
Oh, I know what you're thinking: Fool! You stupid dreamer!
What could you know about alchemizing good from evil,
Extracting, from hatred and brutality, nuggets of kindness, mercy?
I admit that my scheme lacks any semblance of possibility;
Reality and reasonableness are missing. I know this.
But wasn't the Final Solution, in the beginning, just a wild idea?
02/19/10 - (1)
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