Go right � or it is left?
In the last hours before the darkness comes, they choose: right or left.
After all the badges we wore, and ghettos we lived in, after the box cars and bunk beds, after all the ditches dug and sweat of having not been buried in one, it all comes down to right or left.
I have never been a man of great courage, choosing things more out of necessity than conviction, with the hope all would turn out well in the end with whatever choice I made.
So doing what I was told made sense to me, even when what they told me to do did not.
Perhaps I truly believed God or fate would steer me right when logic could not, each stumbling step through each strange change making me more desperate for some divine plan that lacked in mankind.
But I know better now on this walk to the showers that are not showers, I know neither God nor fate holds my hand, only blind luck and some man in a uniform steering me to the right � or it is the left?