The Cento: A Collection of Collage Poems

The Witness

81 edwArd dougherTY The Witness In fear of death I sat up clinging, sitting at least was something alive: the dead do not sit. They come to me in the silence of the night. Want to see? Reexamine all you have been told. Want to see? Come forward and bear witness. A witness struggles not to flinch, not to look away. This requires effort and love. Want to see? There had been a pit there, it was already filled in, and blood . . . like a geyser. 82 Beside me there was a woman with blue lips. she suddenly came out of that trance and whispered in my ear (everyone spoke in whispers): Can you describe this? Can you tell me why? How can they stand there firing at children? Reexamine all you have been told. A witness struggles . . . . . . effort and love . . . Then: to a big trench maybe a hundred a hundred and eighty meters long, and there was an enormous grating, an iron grating. There were corpses burning on it. How is it possible? 83 Come forward. Can you describe this? The night was hot and seemed hotter because of the fires against the sky. Come forward. I have realized I have been victim and executioner. Come forward. Two young girls were badly burned and had lost their families. The younger one complained she was cold. she began shivering and again said it was cold. she suddenly stopped and was dead. What is it that is missing in us? 84 Come forward. These are human beings. Come forward. You share hunger and fear like salt and blood. Come forward and bear witness. Can you describe this? And I said Yes, I can. And then something like a smile crossed what had been her face. Come forward: a new courage: I call it rage. ...