“So whatever we had on, that was ours, and that was it”
— Renee Kolender
Those days you spent in the Warsaw ghetto left you
Hungry but not starved. You arrived in women’s clothing and left with a girl’s body.
Each day, you cinched the waistline of your dress to fit over a body becoming bones. You
Hid your weakness behind a skirt sewn with bravery and it was a delicate beauty
On top of armor. For two years, you could have cinched the waist with your fear, but when you
Left the ghetto in that same skirt, it was threads of strength that helped it fit to your skin.
On the day you were moved to the camp, beauty became a necessity. You were
Clever, using crayons as lipstick, making a collar out of old work gloves,
And you could have done this with fear, but you painted your lips a shade of power.
Under your skin, which grew closer to your bones, you lost your parents, but
Stayed as a mother to your brother, who your dad was killed protecting.
The time liberation came, you dressed your brother as a girl so you wouldn’t be separated.
And though you were free, your home was no longer yours. When you
Remember your childhood, it stopped when it should have begun, and yet you
Modeled strength, clothed yourself in robes of courage, draped them
Over your shoulder, before they start to quiver with a memory, but please
Realize you arrived in women’s clothing and left in armor of your own making.
WILDsound Writing Festival 