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Today our daughter is having a playdate with a new friend whose family is Baha’i from Iran.  Perhaps it is an apt day both to remember our losses from yesterday, and – at the very least- to learn about the persecution continuing today for our friend’s family.  Will you join me in liking “Free the Baha’is of Iran” on Facebook and in sharing the message? Remember yesterday – act today.  May there be blessing, peace, safety for all our children..and butterflies….

The Butterfly

The last, the very last, So richly, brightly, dazzlingly yellow. Perhaps if the sun’s tears would sing against a white stone… Such, such a yellow Is carried lightly ‘way up high. It went away I’m sure because it wished to kiss the world goodbye. For seven weeks I’ve lived in here, Penned up inside this ghetto But I have found my people here. The dandelions call to me And the white chestnut candles in the court. Only I never saw another butterfly. That butterfly was the last one. Butterflies don’t live in here, In the ghetto.

Pavel Friedmann 4.6.1942 The poem, preserved in typewritten copy on thin paper, is from Pavel Friedmann’s collection of poetry (which was donated to the National Jewish Museum during its documentation campaign).  Born 7 Jan, 1921 in Prague, Pavel Friedmann was deported to Terezín on 26 April, 1942. He died in Oswiecim* (Auschwitz) on September 29, 1944.