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St. Bartholomew’s Skin


I raised her body from the straw

They let us bury her out back

Like my brother and sister before

Cages uniform and black


Being taken was my fear

Pain and hunger passed

We said we won’t be broken

Spirits, bones and glass


Some will shrug their shoulders

When the trucks roll in

But I’m healing, I’m not suffering now

Wearing St. Bartholomew’s skin


My mother kept a journal

I found it when she died

Must not allow children to believe

That evil can divide


The shape of your idol

Doesn’t mean a thing to me

If you’re taking our bodies

Or taking history

© Michael Worthington Music 2019


Notes from a Holocaust survivor.

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