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Buchenwald

by Jane E Pearce

I never thought I could  make

the trip back, but  I promised

the others-the faces of those children

and  mothers with mouths wide open,

necks arched  seeking air.

.

Those who stood  with bony knees

rubbing each other to talc  say,

"Keep your word. Return to that hell

and tell the world how brutal,

and hateful eyes  fed us poison gas,

and roasted our bodies"

.

Buchenwald  stands now, benign

but the maggots sing old war songs

as they chew away and crawl

in and out of the hints of flesh.

.

The cries and screams ricochet

from wall to wall when the night winds

are silent , and the smoke curling

up from the ovens beckons to souls

to reclaim their  old leather shoes,

now in the Holocaust Museum in DC.

.

The survivors are dwindling ,

and the story must be passed

from parents to children, to grandchildren,

to great grandchildren, to great great grandchildren.

Or it will happen again.

06/16/2007

Posted on 06/16/2007
Copyright © 2024 Jane E Pearce

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Jean Mollett on 11/25/07 at 07:32 PM

Hi jane, I knew what this is about. Yes, we must not forget the Holocaust. To think their trying to take it out of the history books and telling the kids it didn't happen. Is unreal. It is real, there is too much evidence and it's been proven. Some people are still alive from it today.

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