We live in Poland,
a country that has no use for us.
A country that bullies its citizens,
beats up on us because we are different.
Living in Kielce, we are familiar
with being unfamiliar.
I had a hatred for Poles and all things Polish.
They destroyed our property,
burned our homes,
and every Friday
Catholic boys lie in wait to smear pork fat
on our faces as we walk home to
prepare for Shabbat.
My father wipes my face and says,
“It’s not the best thing, Moishe,
but if this is the worst thing, it’s not so bad.”