Some Poetry from Alex Pak (Father Bressani)

The Past

The Past often haunts us, lost dreams preying on our sleep.

The Past often shadows us, like a hunter earning his keep.

If we feed the Past, the Past consumes us.

If we forget the Past, the Past devours us.

The Past is a fickle thing, with teeth as sharp as its wit.

And if we become food for the Past’s hunger, we will never escape its insatiable need.

The Past would whisper in our ear, reminding us about our failures.

The Past would murmur our joys, our happiness, our love, and crush them with its steel-toe boot.

But only if we allow the Past to reign like a king with a clever, will we be ruled.

Taking Past’s hand in ours, knowledge once lost will become apparent;

For we will no longer be dwelling, but instead learning;

The Past will act as an oracle, guiding the way

To freedom.


Never Again

Sorrow is shed as six million souls are slaughtered;

Society sinks deeper into a semblance of what it once showed.

Jewish are mocked and transformed into less than slaves, as civilization shows its true sadistic shades.

War-torn streets strewn with bodies of soldiers,

Who struggled to save our sickened hearts.

Who are we to shut our eyes to the senseless slaying of the innocent?

Who are we to shut our eyes to the suffering of the innocent?

Never again shall screams of the separated be ignored.

Never again shall sadness be felt.