20160528 (tomb of the unknown saint)

Hedy Epstein, activist for civil rights, Palestinians, war protestor, Holocaust suvivor, dead at 91

No shame in dying anonymously,

Without pretension. Damn few 

Of us will be in history books,

If they even still have books

A thousand years from now.

They’ll remember Ozymandias

Long after we’ve been forgotten. 

This glorious celebrity for

Which we so devotedly hunger 

Is a complete sham—utter

Illusion. Our diamond rings 

Will last longer than our 

Genomes. Those memorial

Foundations we establish may

Not survive the next revolution,

Much less the many after that.

But if I should be remembered

Let it be like ninety-one year

Old Hedy Epstein, Holocaust

Survivor, advocate for peace,

Palestinian restoration, arrested

For demonstrating at the Missouri

Governor’s office on behalf

Of the oppressed of Ferguson.

Escaping Nazi Germany in 1939,

She worked after the war for

The prosecution in the Nuremburg

Trials. She was active her whole 

Life in civil rights and antiwar

Protests. In 2011, she was one 

Of fifty passengers on the

Audacity of Hope, a U. S. 

Flagged vessel attempting 

To break the Israeli blockade

Of Gaza. She died of cancer.

Or like the Reverend Daniel

Berrigan, S. J., another troublemaker,

Fugitive, poet, and man of all

Around good humor, who years

Ago burned draft files in 

Maryland to protest the war

In Vietnam, and who in his

Late years comforted the 

Occupy protestors in Zuccotti

Park. I will give you I have no

Desire to be in the public eye

As these giants of conscience,

Not if it means I have to hide 

From the law, make do with

Food scrounged from other

Protestors, and not be able to

Return home after the protest

To sleep in my comfortable 

Bed with my loyal cat and dog.

When I went to Washington

D. C. in March of 2011 to join

With other Veterans for Peace

Getting arrested for failing 

To quit the White House

Fence in protest against the 

Iraq war and use of drones to

Kill remotely and discovered

I might have to stay the night

In the Anacostia jail without

The hundred dollars to pay

My bail, my stomach came 

To my rescue by growing 

Queasy, indicating that at 

Least subconsciously I was

Clearly not up to the task.

Of course we’d all like to be

Remembered more as heroes

Than psychopaths, but there’s

No assurance we’ll be 

Remembered at all—good

Or bad.

c. J.S.Manista, 2016