To Naava Shan, Theatre Director in Terezin
The trees no longer give shade
against the scorching sun,
looking somehow thin, their leaves
have fallen into windswept piles.
The firefly pushes through the leaves,
often covered completely, its glow
hidden near extinction.
It seems that even if someone cared,
they couldn't get it out unharmed.
And I remember being broucek - Little Firefly-
in the play based on Jan Karafiat's book.
On the Terezin ghetto stage, I danced
before packed hall and the terrifying officers
in the front row and dreading the end because
of the skull on their caps.
Afterwards I learned they just wanted to prove
that culture distracts the mind from hunger.