Auschwitz
As an old man sits
in front of the
window pane
where scratch marks
Have been carved for
each day unto
another year, with
his knees curled up
into his bony Chest,
and his arms wrapped
around his withered
legs . shivering
there from the cold
and fear. In that
old birch wooden
chair ; and with a
tear running down
from his eye upon
his pale distorted
face. Wishing as if
he could be in
another place,
somewhere else
long; away from
here. So with a sigh
of thee anguish,
from his heart his
breath as a ghostly
fog floats across
the icy air, unto
the etched frosted
glass from which he
stares. There unto
the blacken
snow-covered ground,
where ashes from the
furnaces are
twinkling falling so
Slowly down.
The wind carries in
it you know! The
screams of women,
children, young, and
old men. Who once!
Were to Be found,
and now are
ever no more To be
seen. For even the
ropes of the
gallows,
swing in that
winter's howling
breeze. Waiting!
For its next victim
to whom, soon it
will be. And walls
riddled with bullet
holes of those whose
blood has soaked the
ground . crying out
for Justice!
Waiting to Be found.
And as if the only
escape from this
place it seems, was
when death was
To be found.
" Let us Remember
the Holocaust -
Lamentation of the
Birth of a
Nation called
Israel"
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