Anthology 2005

Never shall I forget that night,

And now my soul is poured out within me

the first night in camp

days of affliction have taken hold of me

which has turned my life into one long night

The night racks my bones

seven times cursed and seven times sealed

and the pain that gnaws me takes no rest

Never shall I forget those moments

With violence he seizes my garment

which murdered my God

he grasps me by the collar of my tunic

and my soul

He has cast me into the mire

and turned my dreams to dust

and I have become like dust and ashes

Never shall I forget that nocturnal silence

I cry to you and you do not answer me

which deprived me

I stand, and you merely look at me

for all eternity

You have turned cruel to me

of the desire to live

with the might of your hand you persecute me

Never shall I forget the little faces of the children

You lift me up on the wind, you make me ride on it

whose bodies I saw turned into wreaths of smoke

and you toss me about in the roar of the storm

beneath a silent blue sky

I know that you will bring me to death

Never shall I forget these things

and to the house appointed for all living

even if I am condemned to live as long as God Himself.

— Morgan Richards

This poem presents a dialogue between The Book of Job 30:16-23, NRSV, and Elie Wiesel 's Night (32).