The rain was pattering reassuringly against the window of my room, as if to say, it is okay, we are not a storm, merely raindrops ... Since that time, many years ago, my soul always needs reassuring. Always. Because I lived in a time and at a place where anything could happen to you at any time.
I fell asleep in my cosy chair, in front of the fireplace - an incongruous scene of peace, misleading at best. When I woke with a start, it was dark, the last embers of the fire glowing menacingly in the hearth.
Hello darkness, my old friend. I've come to talk with you again, because a vision softly creeping - left its seeds while I was sleeping. And the vision that was planted in my brain still remains within the sound of silence.
I got up, pulled the heavy curtain aside and peered at the wet landscape. As a cloud slowly moved away, the silvery rays of the moon rushed to caress my cheek. My hand flitted to my cheek, and after my dream I was rather amazed at the oldness of my skin.
O yes - that times are over. Gone forever. The months, weeks, days, hours, minutes and seconds that stole my youth. Which kept stealing my youth even in age.
I turned away from the rain, which was trying to comfort me. Away from the moon's caresses. This night I do not want to be comforted or caressed. Because what was stolen from me, can never be given back. There is no comfort or caress to be had. A whole life. I sighed and slumped back into the soft chair - my eyes longingly fixed on the angry red-hot coals in the fireplace.
I am tired. I gave life my best after it gave me its worst. Why am I still alive? Have I not earned death? I yearned for death. I yearned for her to dance me to her beauty with a burning violin, to dance through the panic until I am gathered safely in, to lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove. Dance me to the end of love!
Thunder clapped unexpectedly. It split the night and touched the sound of silence. In the naked light I saw ten thousand people, maybe more. People talking without speaking, people hearing without listening, people writing songs that voices never share. No one dared disturb the sound of silence.
"Fools" said I, "You do not know silence like a cancer grows! Hear my words that I might teach you, take my arms that I might reach you!" But my words like silent raindrops fell and echoed in the wells of silence.
Yet, here I was. Alone in this luxurious room, in a manor, somewhere on a few acres of land in a country which may or may not have part in ruling the modern world. After the concentration camps in the Boer War of 1899 they said, "This will never happen again!" And yet in 1945 there were the German concentration camps, where indeed violins were played right outside the extermination buildings, when people were marched to their deaths!
Does the vice of men know no bounds?
Oh death! Let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone, let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon. Show me slowly what I only know the limits of. Oh! Dance me to the end of love!
The next morning, when the housekeeper came to open the curtains, she found her, as if asleep, in the cosy chair by the fireplace. One hundred and two years old. For some people that is two lifetimes. She lovingly pulled the soft crocheted blanket over her head and went to make a phone call.
As the housekeeper walked to the study, the television in the kitchen was loudly proclaiming that antisemitism is on the rise in nearly every country in the world. War is looming. Babylon is ruling!
Her obituary read: With profound sadness, we announce the passing of Rachel Blumenfeld-Weiss, who died peacefully at the age of 102 on May 29, 2025. Rachel’s extraordinary life spanned over a century, marked by resilience, courage, and an unwavering love for her family and community. Her legacy of survival, strength, and kindness will continue to inspire all who knew her. Though she survived many horrors at the hands of the Nazi's, she chose to not let that rule her life. In lieu of flowers, donations can be made to the Holocaust Memorial Foundation or the Auschwitz-Birkenau State Museum in her honour. Eleanor’s memory will live on through the lives she touched and the countless lessons she imparted on love, survival, and the importance of never forgetting. May her memory be a blessing.
And that was that. The end of a life. At the private funeral, the wind whispered in the sound of silence - "Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin. Dance me through the panic until I am gathered safely in. Touch me with your naked hand, touch me with your glove. Dance me to the end of love ..."
IN MEMORY OF ALL VICTIMS OF WARS - ANCIENT, OLD AND MODERN
NOTES
This writing prompt was to utilize the lyrics of a song and write a story around it. I selected two songs. The first one is The Sound of Silence by Simon & Garfunkel and my second choice is Dance Me to the End of Love by Leonard Cohen.
I researched the story behind every song and these two resonated with me.
The Sound of Silence explores the theme of failed communication and the lack of genuine connection between people. The song uses the imagery of "hearing without listening" and "people talking without speaking" to illustrate this inability to connect emotionally.
Dance me to the End of Love is a multi-layered song, often interpreted as a love song, but also with deeper undertones about mortality, the Holocaust, and the bittersweet beauty of life's journey. While it can be understood as a simple request to dance with a lover "to the end of love," the lyrics also evoke a sense of acceptance of death and the ephemeral nature of life.
I have chosen to write a piece, roughly based on these two songs' lyrics.
Gerda
May 30, 2025
