From The Book of Poems, The Day Of The Hidden Truth Poems, A Few Sentences From The Poems, Greed
Greed
Like a weed, greed spreads its seed.
Its appetite grows without end in sight.
Why this is so nobody knows.

For the holiday season,people all over world should listen to my husband’s singing of Passover songs. It is the biggest treasure. Read some of his story. He was a young boy in Nazi Slovakia. Cheryl Freier

There was one grace to all of the tragedy of losing my husband:  he was alive for six days after the diagnosis of pancreatic Cancer.  During that time, we talked, but mostly I listened.  He told me he had a blueprint for my life ahead of me.  He told me that most of all he wanted me to keep busy and as much as possible.  “Remember”, he said, “you have education.  You have been trained as a writer of novels.  You took many years of art lessons.  You can do it!  You will be able to take care of yourself”. 

I knew that it was going to be difficult for me, but his pep talk has guided me through missing him and loneliness.  I finished writing four novels:  each novel was a sequel of the first—–together they told the story of my husband, Martin Freier’s life and about all of his achievements, and about his caring nature.  He was always a good father, always there when he was needed.  One of the books is entitled, “The Day Of The Hidden Truth Poems:  In Memoriam To Martin Freier”.  Most of the poems presented in the book were written by him.  And it is through reading his poems that one can gain a glimpse about his thoughts and wishes. 

All of Martin’s poems are a memoriam to him.  The poems span a lifetime of his reflections.  And, yes, there are some poems written about the war.  Yes, the war has ended over 70 years, but we must remember the tragedy that happened in Europe during WWII.  We must give reverence to the soldiers who fought for European freedom against a devil beast.  We must give praise and reverence to the few who survived the war and made a lasting contribution to everyone he came in contact with.  Read Martin’s poems and just for a moment think of yourself vicariously as a young boy in Nazi Slovakia.  It will do good for you.  Cheryl Freier