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"