The wolves have taken everything
from us.
We own nothing.
But then I remember the one thing that is still mine—
my name.
My name is Moishe Moskowitz.
My name is Moishe Moskowitz.
It belongs to me.
And no matter what the wolves do to me,
my name is mine.
I own it.
I make a point of saying my name
to myself every time I think of what I have lost.
But wolves have keen hearing
and they already had a plan in place
to take even my name from me.
They took us to a huge brick building.
Shoved us inside.
We had to undress down to our shoes.
My name is Moishe Moskowitz.
They shave our heads,
our faces,
our entire bodies.
They strip us of our dignity.
My name is Moishe Moskowitz.
We are sent to another station,
where we are branded
with a number.
I clench my teeth
and try to comfort myself
with my new mantra.
My
B-
My name
6
My name is
4
My name is Moishe
7
My name—
They call me
B-647.
But where there is life, there is hope.
My name is Moishe.
And where there is hope. There is life.
My name is Moishe Moskowitz.
IT MATTERS.