Remembering the Holocaust

Never shall I forget the little faces of the children, whose bodies I saw turned into wreaths of smoke beneath a silent blue sky. Never shall I forget those flames which consumed my faith forever…Never shall I forget those moments that murdered my God and my soul and turned my dreams to dust…Never.
— Elie Wiesel from Night

This week is National Holocaust Remembrance Day. I wrote these two poems a while back but I never found the appropriate time to post them. These two poems however will by no means ever compare to the actual feelings of the millions of jews that suffered during the holocaust. Let us remember them and keep them in our prayers.

The Unknown

Yellow star of discrimination
Cramming us into trains
And shutting us out of the world.
We’re all dirty and starving
But we are too confused to think about it.
We just stare blankly at our future
Which we’ll never get to see.

They line us up,
Separating us once again,
Separating me from my wife and children,
Separating my children from my wife,
The pain,
The anguish aflame in our hearts.
How could they?
Are they even humans?
Do they love?

We’re sent to camps.
Those of us that are sick
And aren’t able to work
Are taken somewhere,
Lost someplace,
And never found again.
The suffering that we endure
Feels like a stab in our hearts,
Like the whole world is coming to an end.
Is this the life that we deserved?

The Forgotten

Death of innocence,
Empty eyes in living souls.
Heart breaking as your child
Is taken away from your embrace.
Your child,
The very same that
You have reared
For the past couple years.
Death of the living,
Slow and steady.
Gas chambers.
Smothered death,
Death of the elderly
For no apparent reason.
Have no choice,
Never had a say,
To do anything
But absorb it in.
Our hands behind our backs.
Our eyes closed.
Made to be the forgotten.
Just another for the piles of bodies.

A Windy Afternoon

The trees sway
As the wind grabs the tips of their fingers
And pulls them in her direction.
They hold their place,
Their fingers swaying in the air like tiny waves
lapping against muddied rocks.
The sparrows complain,
Against the bitterness of the wind.
Their wings collide against her tresses,
Preventing them from reaching their nest
and settling down.
But my eyes fall on our pigeons,
Sitting outside their coop,
It somehow makes me feel at peace.