DANDELIONS GROW AT DACHAU,
peeking out
from slatted stoops and hidden crevices
where bleeding saffron stars shed seed
to grow sure proof of sin.

Bright yellow tufts spring forth,
persisting in their proof of shame
while penitent Aryan grounds-keepers
daily sweep away the past.

No detritus
of the subjugated horde remains,
and wasted cigarette butts and gum wrappers
are routinely sent to
politically correct incinerators
to waft a tame trace of penitent visitors.

Impudent
yellow bloomed weeds
wrap their golden blooms in buds,
shrinking away from the grandchildren
of the first garbage burners,
to escape a little longer and defiantly bloom
as tributes to the fallen and trampled flowers
that came before.

Living memorials
profane the sunny blue skies,
where Millions of jews were brutalized.
Dandelions still grow at Dachau,
flourishing proof that man
cannot eliminate what God has chosen
to reflect and echo his glory.

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