The blank document on the computer screen rears its ugly head

It's a quiet Tuesday night and it's raining while I'm staring at the computer

How could I write a poem on something like this?

I hadn't gone through the Holocaust, had grandparents who had

Or even remotely known anybody who did

I simply took a deep breath, put my fingertips on the keyboard

And put myself into the shoes of a poor Jewish boy at a concentration camp

In 1940's Poland, Germany, Austria

Far away from his family and in the hands of sadistic, awful, violent guards

Having had his life, his identity, his freedom stripped away from him

How he would have to find the courage to stand up for not only himself

But for everything and everyone that he represented and symbolized

Before I knew it, I had typed up the poem and printed it out

That was the start of my journey with poetry