Smokestacks of Auschwitz

THE SMOKESTACKS OF AUSCHWITZ A trail of smoke fades to an autumn dawn as sounds of morning break unearthly still arising to the day, some life goes on while others have the fear it never will. Some ashes drift about the morning air appearing as do snowflakes in a stall, to restless breezes they drift everywhere and they are spread about before they fall. Each life that was is slow in pure descent and longing for the earth that pounds below the mother of all life, where time is spent, until time's all run out--it's time to go. Down in the valley echoes from a train awhistling here come the dead again. © Ron Arbuthnot aka ron wilson aka Vee Bdosa