Eliezer.
I just found this poem. I wrote it a really long time ago--more than a year, at least--based upon reading Elie Wiesel's Night.
Eliezer, Eliezer--
I called out to you in my
agony
Why do you not come?
Eliezer, why do you
hide
from my desperation?
For the world crushed
our bond,
they bludgeoned my face
for loving you,
Eliezer.
And though I call
through my terminal breath
still you do not come to me.
And life slowly fades in my eyes
and love slowly fades in your mind
until I am dead beyond salvation
while you endure, with my pain
without me.
It isn't particularly good, but I find it interesting that I reacted so strongly to a book that I wrote a poem about it. I can't remember ever doing that any other time. Hm. Interesting. I should try it more often. Just make the poetry better.