Time is often the destroyer of a young man’s dreams.
Hope is frequently the only nourishment for an emaciated soul.
How did you endure an era so blatantly inhumane,
Where a child’s only crime is being born a Jew?
I think back to my own hardship as a “Lifer” in prison.
When dark thoughts ravenously clawed at my will.
Threatening to drag me into the depths of hopeless abandon,
As the elusive hope of freedom took on a mystical quality.
A Lucky Child spoke to me in ways never before.
Tears of mine followed your march on frostbitten feet.
Injecting into my spirit an Odd Nansen state of being,
I pray for the moral strength not to compromise my dignity.
You have shown that when a person is subjected to terrible suffering,
That experience should teach us how to empathize with all people in need.
With Mutti’s unrelenting hope and love, Mundek’s courageous sacrifice …
You reclaimed your name from the number you were given.
Mr. Thomas Buergenthal
Survivor of Auschwitz death camp,
And author of A Lucky Child
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