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Displaced Persons (DPs), Europe's Refugee Crisis, Holocaust of Polish Catholics, Nazi Germany slave laborers, Polish-American poet John Guzlowski
Syrian Refugees at Railway Station in Budapest – Hungary – September 2015
Photo Credit: Daily Mail UK / Reuters
My Poetry Corner September 2015 features the poem “What My Father Believed” by Polish-American poet John Guzlowski. Born in a refugee camp in Germany after World War II, he was three years old when he came with his parents and five-year-old sister to the United States in 1951 as Displaced Persons (DPs).
In his poem, “I Dream of My Father as He Was When He First Came Here Looking for Work,” Guzlowski writes:
I woke up at the Greyhound Station
in Chicago, and my father stands there,
strong and brave, the young man of my poems,
a man who can eat bark and take a blow
to the head and ask you if you have more.
In 2005, Guzlowski retired from Eastern Illinois University where he taught contemporary American literature and poetry writing. His poetry deals with the experiences of his Polish Catholic parents as slave laborers in Nazi Germany.
His mother had witnessed her mother shot, her sister raped and murdered, and her sister’s baby kicked to death. In “What the War Taught Her,” he shares her trauma:
My mother learned that sex is bad,
Men are worthless, it is always cold
And there is never enough to eat.
She learned that the world is a broken place
Where no birds sing, and even angels
Cannot bear the sorrows God gives them.
In an interview with Maureen Doallas (2014), Guzlowski describes his father as a “straightforward, uneducated, hard-working man who loved his family, people, and God. He was always ready to help a neighbor, help strangers…” The poet tries to convey this in his featured poem, “What My Father Believed”:
He believed life is hard, and we should
help each other. If you see someone
on a cross, his weight pulling him down
and breaking his muscles, you should try
to lift him, even if only for a minute,
even though you know lifting won’t save him.
Through his poems, Guzlowski gives voice not only to his parents, but also to the thousands of forgotten, voiceless Polish refugees of World War II. Then, as now, Americans didn’t want immigrants taking their jobs and bringing crime to their neighborhoods. In an essay, “Polish Literature and Me,” the poet recalls: “We were regarded as Polacks—as dirty, dumb, lazy, dishonest, immoral, licentious, and drunken… [American] literature helped me run away from my Polishness and our past.”
In our times, thousands of displaced peoples are swarming Europe’s borders, seeking refuge from our Global War on Terrorism and oppressive regimes in the Middle East, Asia, and Africa. Will America and Europe—the battleground of World War II—open our homes and hearts to today’s displaced persons? Who will speak for them?
To read the featured poem, “What My Father Believed,” and learn more about John Guzlowski’s work, go to my Poetry Corner September 2015.
Reblogged this on Guyanese Online.
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Thanks for sharing, Cyril. Have a great week 🙂
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Here’s a poem, “We Are The World!” by ShelbyCourtland that comments on Europe’s refugee crisis.
https://shelbycourtland.wordpress.com/2015/09/06/we-are-the-world/
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Recent videos from The Guardian on the European refugee crisis:
http://www.theguardian.com/world/video/2015/sep/06/pope-francis-video-refugee-aid-religious-institutions-video
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Reblogged this on shelbycourtland and commented:
“In our times, thousands of displaced peoples are swarming Europe’s borders, seeking refuge from our Global War on Terrorism and oppressive regimes in the Middle East, Asia, and Africa. Will America and Europe—the battleground of World War II—open our homes and hearts to today’s displaced persons? Who will speak for them?”
Who? Who will welcome them? The men, women and children who are fleeing the devastation that is their homeland thanks to ‘our Global War on Terrorism’?
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Thanks for the reblog, Shelby. Our actions have consequences.
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Reblogged this on It Is What It Is and commented:
The power of the written word! America’s “War on Terror” was the start of this enable …. the words used to describe the Polish have been used before. It’s a fact they were used to describe Puerto Ricans as they descended upon the Island to take over. Meaning …. that’s the way of the “Empire”.
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Thanks for the reblog, Dr. Rex. How easily we forget that America was established and built by migrants, refugees, and African slave labor!
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You’re most welcome! Yes, we forget!!
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And as you, Rose, and Dr. Rex, remind us, the US shoulders much of the responsibility for the atrocious situation in the Middle East. Another reminder: the major battlegrounds of WWII were Europe and Britain and Japan – not the US. It is significant that we, as Americans, claim WWII when we were reluctant to enter the war and no enemy forces ever hit our shores. We really do need to face our histories.
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Thanks for that reminder, Angela. We are also guilty of re-shaping history to suit our own narratives.
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Agree that the Syrian and many other Middle East refugees need to be helped at a global level. There was a thought provoking though slightly dated article from the Guardian on the various angles of the refugee situation for Britain. Link attached. http://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2015/aug/01/calais-illegal-immigrant-uk-facts
The world needs to have a paradigm shift for the management of the international “human resource” issues, citizens, immigration, jobs!
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Thanks for sharing the link, Cicorm. I found the following excerpt of interest. The same may be true for the USA.
“The “typical” illegal immigrant [in England] is a Brazilian who came here on a tourist visa and decided to stay and make some money working in a restaurant; or an Australian who arrived on a working visa and is now a gym instructor.”
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Thanks for sharing the article, Rosaliene!
Indeed. There are many types of migrants, and I do have the general sentiment that when well managed, migrants/the additional manpower can become positive contributors.
Of course, for equitability, there is a need to take the appropriate and measured approach when dealing with the rule-breakers re: (Britain’s) case for overstayers.
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Displaced Persons
We came with heavy suitcases
made from wooden boards by brothers
we left behind, came from Buchenwald
and Katowice and before that
Lwow, our mother’s true home,
came with our tongues
in tatters, our teeth in our pockets,
hugging only ourselves, our bodies
stiff like frightened ostriches.
We were the children in ragged wool
who shuffled in line to eat or pray
or beg anyone for charity.
Remembering the air and the trees,
the sky above the Polish fields,
we dreamt only of the lives waiting
for us in Chicago and St. Louis
and Superior, Wisconsin
like pennies
in our mouths.
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Mr. Guzlowski, thanks so much for sharing your poem, “Displaced Persons.” I read your account about the wooden suitcase and of deciding not to keep it after your mother’s death. To me, it was like putting to rest that part of your lives.
I hope you like what I’ve done in featuring your work in my Poetry Corner September 2015.
All the best with your novel, Suitcase Charlie.
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