A colorless monster,
this monument to death-
barracks with boards
separated by time,
slatted bunks that never
held blankets or pillows,
stand, begging to talk.

Decades later fear and dispair
bounce off the rotting walls,
and the air echos
with smells of evil,
and burning flesh-
the "final solution"-
humanity's greatest disgrace.

Deserted now,it has no
color-no wild blossoms
that usually impose on vacant fields,
only tall dull grass that sneaks
between the tracks,
and under barbed wire
still stabbing the air.

Stark, and grey, it stands
with no wild daisies or lupine,
for there can be no flowers
for Auschwitz.

04/07/2002

Posted on 04/07/2002
Copyright © 2026 Jane E Pearce