They take my shiny shoes and jewels.
They spit, call me a naked mule.
Their smiles are wide,
But I have, I hide
What makes me laugh, “They’re the true fools!”
What’s most precious they cannot take.
The strongest shield no one can break.
My beautiful thoughts,
My very own spot!
Makes me alive, makes me awake!
Recently I’ve been so drawn into Viktor Frankl’s words in his book “Man’s Search For Meaning” that I’ve stayed up well past bedtime on a school-night lacking the ability to put his story away for the next time. I found great revelation and a poem in this written by Frankl: “Sensitive people who were used to a rich intellectual life may have suffered much pain (they were often of a delicate constitution), but the damage to their inner selves was less. They were able to retreat from their terrible surroundings to a life of inner riches and spiritual freedom.”
Though I haven’t spent time in a Concentration Camp and I cannot imagine the horrors, I knew of what Frankl was speaking of and immediately desired to put my own creation of a poem to it in an effort to relate. My thoughts are my own and the only thing that no one can take from me. Too little do I not recognize the importance of my thoughts and too much I worry of material loss or physical pain. This poem acts as a thank you to Dr. Frankl and the realization he gave me.