Night

As I sink my teeth in a vegan, gluten-free, sugar-free chocolate chip cookie sandwich with frosting in the middle, my entire being is submerged into a world of pleasure and chocolate. I sit by my fire, warm, and tired after a long day. Satisfied. Great.

But how is this fair?

We're reading Elie Wiesel's Night in English class right now - a startling, and true, depiction of the Holocaust from a survivor himself. We had time to read in class today...and I wasn't the same person walking out of the classroom that day than I'd been going in.

The part we read today accounts Wiesel's experience entering Auschwitz.

Babies. He sees babies being burned right in front of him. Babies. "All this could not be real," he thinks. And that's what I was thinking too. "This must be a gross exaggeration, only trying to make a point. This can't have really happened." But deep down, I know it did. I know that I'm just trying to deny the horrible truth, not willing to accept the atrocities members of our race can commit against others.

Babies.

That's what made me cry when we watched Schindler's List: the children. Being carried away in trucks. Singing...singing children's songs. Being carried away in trucks to their death. And they had no idea.

How could this happen?

Class was over. I closed the book, gathered my things, got up and pushed my chair in...began walking through the halls. But none of that was real. Not after what I had just read. I couldn't be walking through a carpeted hall, cradling my books and binders, warm and comfortable in new clothes, surrounded by friends. It simply wasn't fair.

I walked out beside my friend, and I could tell we felt the same way. But it was more than just a feeling. There was a cloud...a black cloud, enshrouding the two of us. We floated through the murmurs and shouts of our fellow middle schoolers around us, but we did not feel as fellows. We did not belong, or rather, they did not belong, the school did not belong. It couldn't, could it, when... Babies.

Everything was a blur. I didn't care what people were saying around me. The smiles on their faces, the twinkle in their eyes, was a betrayal to the truths of humanity. A betrayal to Elie Wiesel. A betrayal to the 6 million Jews who died in the Holocaust, to those in Africa going through genocide right now at this very moment, to the children sold to sex trafficking every day, to any victims of the black and smoky fire of cruelty.

A light beside me - really a sweet sound - emerged from the cloud of mutual despair, and I turned, feeling dead, to see a painful smile broken on her face - attempting to erase the words still emblazoned in her soul. I then became aware that a small boy had tripped over a stack of chairs amid the rush in the hallway...a clumsy child, being a clumsy child. An act ignored, but plainly etched across all of our paths. Something simple. Something ordinary.

And I believe the side of my mouth tilted up just a little then. That trip, stumble, clumsiness...it was an angel.

But a short-lived one.

As I collected my books for my next class, I exchanged a few words with some other students I know. I wasn't really there. It was meaningless. How could I be there when... Babies.

My friend and I met up again walking to class. We never had to say anything, during all of this. We didn't need to. We got there early. I tore a page out of my notebook...and that moment, that tear, felt so good. All I could do, at the moment, to express my anger.

And then I began to write. I wrote a little of what I've just written here. Some ideas, thoughts. Just words. And I could never write enough. No one can write enough, or say enough, or sing enough, think enough... Babies.

Of course, class had to start. Of course, I had to continue the day. It was American History class now, not English. It was time to move on. But I never could. I didn't even care, as he handed back our tests, what I got. I listened to my teacher's words diligently, but my heart wasn't in it. I could have put my heart in it, if I wanted to - I can to anything - but I couldn't ignore the hollow feeling inside.

The rest of the day I felt subdued. Like I was only half-experiencing my life. Every small thing stood out in magnanimous detail. Every gesture, word spoken or read, touch sensed. It was all a dream, while I seemed to wear a black and grey veil, carrying with me the thoughts of all humans of all times. A burden.

I remember feeling, while I read Night, similar to how I felt when we did the Underground Railroad simulation at Camp Joy. How the things we experienced there, where there was no physical pain, no real family being torn from us, and still the promise of a soft bed later in the night, were so piercing. I felt like a worthless pig after only going through that for an hour or so. I was already reduced to nothing, to no one, just a body, following the line ahead of me. I remember my heart beating furiously, running away from me. Wanting to leave. I remember that horrible feeling. But what Elie experienced was so much worse. I felt guilty, almost, that a simulation was the closest I could relate those feelings to. And even worse, when I thought about how what Elie is relaying at this point in the book is only the beginning - that there is worse to come for him.

I've always had the sense that everything will be OK. I'll be fine. I'm safe. But I'm sure he felt that too. My life could turn around too. I could be somewhere like there, seeing those babies.

How would I even begin to grapple with those emotions?

I don't think I'll ever be the same. I still wear that veil. But I can't forget this. I can't let things be. I can live, live to the fullest, and live my own life.

"Never shall I forget that night, the first night in camp, that turned my life into one long night seven times sealed.

Never shall I forget that smoke.

Never shall I forget the small faces of the children whose bodies I saw transformed into smoke under a silent sky.

Never shall I forget those flames that consumed my faith forever.

Never shall I forget the nocturnal silence that deprived me for all eternity of the desire to live.

Never shall I forget those moments that murdered my God and my soul and turned my dreams to ashes.

Never shall I forget those things, even were I condemned to live as long as God Himself.

Never."

-from Night, by Elie Wiesel, page 52 of the Night Trilogy

And never shall I forget those words.

So good night, world of words. Live through the black cloud. Lift up the veil. But remember. Never forget the words of night.