This is an episode in “the quest for Jan van Boeckel: From Holland to Bavaria”.

Pilgrimage day one: Dachau

Jan was already gone when he arrived at these gates. Clad in striped silence his last breath taken surrounded by inertia and hate. On this blood-soaked earth his choice echoes in my abstract liberty.

Here bloodstains and broken bones are morphed into pillows of beauty. Agony transformed into towering trees, dressed in wild, hopeful growth. I watch as a tear, frozen in time, melts into moss. A tear suspended – burdened with a mother’s loss, a family’s emptiness.

A strong choice and a melted tear are cradled by this comforting earth. As I close the circle I bear witness, and then, with renewed hope, I set forth, following this story from death to life. Knowing that there is beauty where time does not forget and in these values that are my heritage. Knowing that it is my legacy to tell this story.

This is an episode in “the quest for Jan van Boeckel: From Holland to Bavaria”.