Category: Poems/Poetry

Butterfly Boy Bronze Statue unveiled at Jane Bancroft Cook Library (Florida), January 28, 2010

Sculptor, Sidney Fagin.

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I Never Saw Another Butterfly

by Pavel Freidman

The last, the very last,

So richly, brightly, dazzlingly yellow.

Perhaps if the sun’s tears would sing

against a white stone. . . .

Such, such a yellow

Is carried lightly ‘way up high.

It went away I’m sure because it wished to

kiss the world good-bye.

For seven weeks I’ve lived in here,

Penned up inside this ghetto.

But I have found what I love here.

The dandelions call to me

And the white chestnut branches in the court.

Only I never saw another butterfly.

That butterfly was the last one.

Butterflies don’t live in here,

in the ghetto.

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Pavel Friedmann was born in Prague on January 7, 1921. He was deported to Terezin on April 26, 1942 and later to Auschwitz, where he died on September 29, 1944. At least 960,000 Jews were killed in Auschwitz. Other victims included approximately 74,000 Poles, 21,000 Roma (Gypsies), and 15,000 Soviet prisoners of war; and 10,000-15,000 members of other nationalities (Soviet civilians, Czechs, Yugoslavs, French, Germans, and Austrians). Women, men, children.

One day, I was engrossed in a writing project, which will probably take more than a few years to complete.  The story  involves some of the great art pieces that were stolen by the Nazis during World War II and how some of those pieces have now been restored to the families from which they came. As I juggle multiple writing projects with higher priority, I usually am only able to devote several hours a week to this particular project.

As I did my research, I came across this poignant poem, made even more so by the circumstances of the young poet’s death. I’d never read it before. I became curious about Pavel and the poem. The poem, sandwiched between Pavel’s birth and murder, tell us most of what we can find out about him. I found the photo of the Butterfly Boy sculpture pictured above with its creator. The statue was inspired by the poem. I also found that a book was published, . . . I Never Saw Another Butterfly . . . , which has children’s’ drawings and poems from theTerezin Concentration Camp 1942-1944. One of the many insults of this camp was that it was set up to make Red Cross inspectors think that prisoners were being treated humanely. In fact, some 200,000 passed through this camp, known as the “waiting room for Auschwitz.” 97,297 died. 15,00o were children.

So, no. No I didn’t stay on task that day, but some detours can be moving and instructive. I think it’s worth sharing this one with you today. I’d like to say it’s posted “lest we forget.” But we have forgotten. Or, maybe we just don’t care. Genocides continue.

Terezin Children’s Cantata has posted nine of the poems from this book.

Book cover, . . . I never saw another butterly . . ., copyrighted, posted under fair use.

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