Hidden

In the darkest corner Of the dank attic Under years worth of dust In the deserted house Lies a box. Inside the box Near the hole in the roof Under the stars Of the abandoned house Are memories Of people, Young and old, Rich and poor, Hidden for safe-keeping, Also hidden in the house Long ago were people. During a war Under the rule Of a cruel dictator. They left behind memories, Photographs and notebooks, Personal items and items Of nostalgia To be retrieved after the war, When they were free To walk about Without fear of punishment or death For just being Jewish. But noone came back To retrieve their treasures-- Hidden-- Because the people no longer existed. So the memories remain hidden Encapsulated, Safely kept To be discovered one day By someone who lovingly Uses the hidden memories To tell the story Of countless lives lost To keep history from repeating itself.