Maundy Thursday

Harp strings flutter their touch through me -Soothing my soul.“Holocaust” symphony -That does not flutter.It seeps into you -behind your eyes,within the wailing wall of your heart.How could such beauty and gentlenessin the twinkling musicCo-exist with the knowledge of such terror -knowing that this could happen is horror.Living it is unspeakable,And yet, must be spoken.Was the harp played in a German homeas Jewish families were herded to their death?Could beauty and this horror co-exist?Not with the knowledge of the terror -only in blindness,cold, dark blindness -stone silence of deafness.You can’t hear a harpand hear their anguished crieswith the same ears.You’d go mad.Susan Ceely Phillips