A poem inspired from a dream about the holocaust. |
I’m standing there, again, in the train car- Germany, circa 1945 The Museum, full of memories, is normally bustling with tourists But I am alone and I close my eyes, goosebumps racing each other up my neck. The past encompasses me and I’m filled with the spirit Of the people here so many years ago Light, streaming through the cracks in the wall Dapples the train car’s floor, either From the world of the dream or the scenery pulled past I am sitting in a corner with strangers My hair, unwashed for weeks, covers my sooty face And screams are heard from the orphaned brood I finger the serial number on my left wrist that sent me to this place, Given to me when I first took the train with empty promises of prosperity, And splash it with silent tears for all of us Children in an unjust world who only want love Sentenced for our birth, sentenced to our death Whispers tell where they are carting us off to I see a boy wrapped in a moldy blanket Staring into the void with immense eyes once blue as sapphires They have lost their childhood vigor, been sapped of their color He’s grown up too fast at seven years old, alone in the world, readied for death I want to reach to him and give him my strength So there is the smallest hope that he may survive But here’s the nightmare: I can’t. |