Holocaust Child Poems

That story was so sad, 
and unbelievably wild--
how they managed to protect 
this innocent, small child

It inspired me to check out 
more library books
on other...

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Our beautiful children are dying
In Africa, Europe, the Middle East
Asia, the Americas,
And in every projects where there is no peace.
Our black children are dying
For lack...

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Never thought I'd live long enough to see a holocaust.
A holy slip of land whittled into a divining rod for carnage and death.
The footsteps of...

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Wake up in the midnight,
Staring at the window outside
It slightly far above my sight
A little girl’s hands folded
Cries out in pain
I can read her facial...

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Please

Please don't cry. 
Please don't cry anymore. 
In my memory I can still hear you. 
I can never forget. 
My heart will always hurt inside,...

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There is evil that offends evil.
There is black that is blacker than black.
There is fault-free blood that is a running river.
There is inhumanity that supercedes...

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Yesterdays Child

Born on a Tuesday, 
or maybe it was a Wednesday... 
it really does not matter anymore. 
The sun is white-hot, 
and the dew is...

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Act Eight, Chapter One. Part Three
                Part of a grander...

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Looking back, one thing comes clean-glass clear
you were always there for me subduing every fear.

I tried to do my duty, be a husband strong and...

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Poems about Children V

Pan
by Michael R. Burch

Among the shadows of the groaning elms,
amid the darkening oaks, we fled ourselves

Once there were paths that led to...

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When a person looks at the form shaping morality
registered at the ballot box in an open verdict
easy to read between the lines brain dead
signs a...

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Lost
for the children of the Holocaust and the Nakba
by Michael R. Burch

Something inescapable is lost—
lost like a pale vapor curling up into shafts of moonlight,
vanishing...

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Thief of Glory 
 
Faded flowers, 
dead on the table, 
no vase, no water, 
no blood, 
no sacrifice, 
of time, sweat, tears, 
years and fears....

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Bad Discussions 
(Not a nice poem)

By the pound what a sound, 
in morbid delay at death's door. 
Cutting off bits and chunks of souls,
too busy...

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Somewhere tucked away in a Bethlehem hostel

Little Salam sleeps to the sound of the river Jordan

Unaware of the narrative of two thousand years

Or some glorious...

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