John Guzlowski: Love Your Neighbor?
Yes, Jesus said, “Love your neighbor as yourself,” but, of course, he’s not the only one who said it. Almost every religion has that phrase or something like it at its core.
John Guzlowski: Two poems about my mother
My mother still remembers
The long train to Magdeburg
the box cars
bleached gray
by Baltic winters
John Guzlowski: Fear
You could hear the fear in my mom’s voice. She feared everything, the sky in the morning, a drink of water, a sparrow singing in a dream, me whistling some stupid little Mickey Mouse Club tune I picked up on TV.
John Guzlowski: Hope Is Our Mother
A question I get often about my Polish parents is what kept them going during the war and after the war.
John Guzlowski: Hunger
He ate what would kill a man
in the normal course of his life:
leather buttons, cloth caps, anything
small enough to get into his mouth.
He ate roots. He ate newspaper.
John Guzlowski: Four Poems
My mother never thought she’d survive
that first winter in the slave labor camps.
