I was paging leisurely through a magazine when I came across the following poem, written in1944, by an anonymous child in the Terezin Concentration Camp on the outskirts of Prague. The child wrote it the day that he/she was sent to the gas chamber to die.
On a purple sun-shot evening
under wide-flowering chestnut trees
upon the threshold of
yesterday, today, the days are all like these.
Trees flower forth in beauty
Lovely too, their very wood all gnarled and old
that I am half afraid to peer
into their crowns of green and gold.
The sun has made a veil of gold
so lovely that my body aches
Above, the heavens shriek of blue
convinced that I’ve smiled by mistake.
The world’s abloom and seems to smile
I want to fly, but where, how high?
If in barbed wire things can bloom
Why can’t I? I will not die.
I cried a lot after reading this, then came to my senses. If this child could be so optimistic in a concentration camp, how dare I give up my fight against schizophrenia? I had to keep going, keep searching for answers and the miracle medication that might help my son.