john guzlowski

john guzlowski
Location
Danville, Virginia, USA
Birthday
June 22
Bio
I was born in a refugee camp in Germany after World War II, and came with my parents Jan and Tekla and my sister Donna to the United States as Displaced Persons in 1951. My parents had been slave laborers in Nazi Germany. Growing up in the immigrant and DP neighborhoods around Humboldt Park in Chicago, I met Jewish hardware store clerks with Auschwitz tattoos on their wrists, Polish cavalry officers who still mourned for their dead horses, and women who walked from Siberia to Iran to escape the Russians. I write about these people.

OCTOBER 31, 2009 1:18PM

All Souls Day

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When I was a child growing up in Chicago, All Souls Day wasn't a big deal. My parents would tell me stories about what it was like in Poland when they were kids. People would travel to the cemeteries where their mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, were buried and leave flowers and lighted candles there. Some times at night, there would be so many candles burning on and near the graves that you could see the light shining above the cemeteries as you walked back home, even if your home was far away.

But we didn't do that in America. We were Displaced Persons, immigrants, and all our dead were buried far away in Poland. My mother didn't even know where her mother and her sister and her sister's baby were buried. The men who killed them put my mother on a boxcar and sent her to the slave labor camps in Germany before she could bury her family. It was a bad time.

A little while ago, the Polish-American poet Oriana Ivy sent me a poem about All Souls Day, and she said it would be okay to share it with people.

Here's the poem:

All Souls


Sometimes I think Warsaw fog
is the dead, come back

to seek their old homes –
wanting to touch even the walls.

But they cannot find those walls,
so they embrace the trees instead,

lindens and enduring chestnuts.
They embrace the whole city, lay

their arms around the bridges
and the droplet-beaded street lamps;

they pray in the Square of Three Crosses,
kneel among the candles and flowers

under bronze plaques that say
On this spot, 100 people were shot –

they bow, they kiss
even the railroad tracks –

they do not complain, only hold
what they can, in unraveling white.

-- Oriana Ivy

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If you want to read more of Oriana's poems, they are available online at the journal qarttsiluni.

If you want to know more about Polish and Polish-American All Souls Day, Deacon Konicki's blog has a post about the way it is celebrated in Poland and Robert Strybel has a piece on the way the day is commemorated by Polish-Americans in the US.

By the way, the Polish-American community in Buffalo, NY, has organized an All Souls Day commemoration. There's an article about it in the Polish News.


_______

The photo is of an All Souls Day commemoration in Poland.

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Comments

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What a hauntingly beautiful poem.

Thanks for teaching me something new John!
Hi, Julie, thanks for the kind words about the poem. I'll send your comments to Oriana.
John, thank you so much for sharing Oriana's poem. Please convey my compliments to her for a poignant poem that touches all of us who have lost loved ones.
John, my mother was just taken to the cemetery by her Polish friends after church today...but I was afraid to go. There are reported zombie attacks in cemeteries these days and Catholic faith is not enough to protect you. Read my very first post ever...'Death...Doorway or Dead End?' for the inside scoop!
Lovely poem and photo.
It's really sad John. I just couldn't imagine the hate that caused all of this.
Thanks, Ric. Hard to imagine.

I mean I've hated, but to be able to maintain that hatred day in and day out for years would wear me out.