Primo Levi dared to face memories
Most of us would bury.
He looked into the face of Hell
And brought it to the surface
For all to see, once and for all.

Wherever he looked
Wherever he went
He carried Satan’s image
To warn us.

He was brave enough to live with the Devil
To expose him
To protect us.

We did not recognize him.
Let us forget.
Bury it.
Hide it.
Anything but remember.

We did not hold his hand
Give him the love
The love of humanity.

Alone
He said goodbye.

Jamie Coats     August 1987

On April 11, 1987 42 years after being rescued from Auschwitz Primo Levi fell to his death in the stair-well of the Turin apartment building where he was born and lived.

In August 1987 I met Primo Levi’s sister at a dinner party. She did not mention her brother but I left the party feeling grief-stricken. I read a number of his works and wrote this poem.

On April 11, 2010 my sister Emma was admitted to the John Radcliffe Hospital trauma unit following a fall. I think she would have have understood this poem.