Night of the Holocaust

I went with my father in France
to visit his sister.
we were in the kitchen, eating
salad and they were drinking wine
when his sister brushed a lock of
gray hair off her pale face with her
bony hands.
I noticed something on her arm.
"What's that, Aunt Hannah?"
she turned to me then to my father.
she drank her glass of wine in one
quick gulp and started cleaning the table.
I asked my father if I said something wrong,
he said. "There are things better left unanswered."
many years have passed and now I learned
what those horrible days and nights were
things that they don't want to remember anymore
and yet so hard to forget.