buried german, buried jew

Yesterday I read a story about infanticide in Germany.



Buried German, Buried Jew
a poem by Troy Cady

*FATHER DEWIS: This is out of my domain. I’m in the quiet part of town.

Your face is dry now.
Is this right?
Will this make you weep?

Once upon a time,
there were eight big flower pots.

………………………………………

Shepard wrote a play:
“Buried Child.”
Shepard was a prophet.

HALLE: The messengers of God’s word are screaming louder now than ever before, screaming to the four winds.

Do you get me?

………………………………………..

Look at the pretty flowers,
my child.
No, my child, don’t go
digging in the dirt.
Just look at the flowers—
Don’t—
You’ll only—

VINCE: …the carrots have nothing to do with the situation here.

…………………………………………..

You’re only digging yourself in.

There is something under there—
What am I saying?—
There is some One under there.

TILDEN: I had a son once but we buried him.

………………………………………

You wouldn’t know to look at the pretty flowers,
But those roots are human.
The girl is fertile.
So was the baby.

Shepard said this was going to happen.
This happened.

SHELLY: I don’t even know what I’m doing here.

………………………………………………..

TILDEN: You’ve got to talk or you’ll die.
DODGE: I don’t want to talk about anything.

Your face is dry now.
Mine too.
Is this right?
Weep, my soul.
Wash away the dirt
stuck to your face
from the digging.

……………………………………………..

Your face is dry now.
Is this right?

HALLE: You used to be a good man.

Shepherd
told us we looked pretty
on the outside.

You can’t see the inside.
What does that matter?

You think I’m pretty.
That’s good—
just don’t start digging.

…………………………………….

Shepherd
Told us we were dirty
on the inside.

Start digging.
Work and sweat.
When you find the Buried Child,
weep.

VINCE: I just gotta get outta here. Think things through by myself.

………………………………………

VINCE: Same eyes. Same mouth. Same breath.

Your face is dry now.
Is this right?
The Baby was innocent.
We put him in the ground.
He died like a seed,
buried underground.

The Flower was red
like blood.
The Flower now dead.

The Flower and The Baby
are one.

My face is still dry.
Why?
The Buried Child
does not look like a crucifixion
but it is.

SHELLY: You really don’t recognize him?
DODGE: What’s to recognize?

Shepherd said this would happen.
Shepard said we’d pretend it didn’t happen—
so did Shepherd.

FATHER DEWIS: I’ve been so busy with the choir.

Die with the Child,
like a seed
planted in a flower pot—
because your face is still dry.
So is mine.

Is this right?

FATHER DEWIS: I thought by now the Lord would have given me some sign, some guidepost, but I haven’t seen it. No sign at all.


_____________________________________________________________________
*Text in italics are citations from “Buried Child”, a play by Sam Shepard.