TALE OF THE SPRINTER,
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Holocaust
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Frozen Jews
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Holocaust
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I am an athlete from Berlin,
my feet are fast and swift. I can run faster than anyone! Truly, this is the Lord's gift! Any race I participate in, I always come in first, for I tell myself, "I HAVE to win"; it is like a great thirst. Even if someone, somehow passes me, I put on an extra burst of speed and run past him, leaving him behind; thus, I take the lead. I once thought, "If I keep running this way, I might be in the Olympics, some day..." THE PRESENT - But now the year is nineteen-thirty-eight And for my dreams, it's just too late. My running days are all gone, I'm not going to see tomorrow's dawn. Yes, it is true that I can run very fast; But it is also true that I am a Jew... There's no running, from the Holocaust. |
We played, we laughed
we were loved. We were ripped from the arms of our parents and thrown into the fire. We were nothing more than children. We had a future. We were going to be lawyers, rabbis, wives, teachers, mothers. We had dreams, then we had no hope. We were taken away in the dead of night like cattle in cars, no air to breathe smothering, crying, starving, dying. Separated from the world to be no more. From the ashes, hear our plea. This atrocity to mankind can not happen again. Remember us, for we were the children whose dreams and lives were stolen away. |
Have you seen, in fields of snow, frozen Jews, row on row? Blue marble forms lying, not breathing, not dying.
Somewhere a flicker of a frozen soul - glint of fish in an icy swell. All brood. Speech and silence are one. Night snow encases the sun. A smile glows immobile from a rose lip's chill. Baby and mother, side by side. Odd that her nipple's dried. Fist, fixed in ice, of a naked old man: the power's undone in his hand. I've sampled death in all guises. Nothing surprises. Yet a frost in July in this heat - a crazy assault in the street. I and blue carrion, face to face. Frozen Jews in a snowy space. Marble shrouds my skin. Words ebb. Light grows thin. I'm frozen, I'm rooted in place like the naked old man enfeebled by ice. |
How do you
explain that term to a ten- year old boy who, one day, hears it mentioned by some relatives? And even if you do manage to make him understand what it actually does mean, do you also tell him that because he is A GERMAN JEW, perhaps, some day, he might be included in it...? Or should he just not be told, so that he remains calm and doesn't lose sleep over it? But what is sleep, in front of death? Perhaps Death is greater, perhaps the two are the same; we do not know yet but we'll know, by the end of the day; the Chambers are yet some hours away. "To die, to sleep...to sleep, perchance to dream..." How did Shakespeare realise that? Did he know some Jew who was persecuted too? Perhaps he was wrong, maybe he was right... Anyway, I suspect we'll find out by tonight. |
I Looked Out at Life with Holocaust Eyes by Alan freshman |
the holocaust by russell campbell |
My holocaust by Abby Rose |
Darkest Days by Joyce hemsley |
I looked out at life with Holocaust eyes
And what better did I know that I had been looking through the lens of guilt and affliction, Seeing life amiss and askew through my Holocaust guilt, This fatal flaw was burning in my eyes and how it lay siege to my Jewish heart, A Greek tragedy in the making all of these years, The guilt rose from deeply sealed vaults inside my Jewish eyes and heart, I could not help but see life through my Holocaust eyes, Until these Holocaust pangs smoldered and burned its acrid smoke in my eye sockets, I peeled away its painful gauze and ace bandages, My eyes had once lamented over the Holocaust afflictions, But now I could see with clarion eyes and feel anew with my Jewish heart by virtue of Holocaust healing balm, As it clarified the lens, fluid and muscles of my eyes, And now this healing balm paved a shimmering path within me, For my Jewish heart to emerge and then shine its splendor outwards on straight and forward path of life. |
work all day, cry all night
blood has shed, keep up the fight the holocaust has just begun, but the fight is not yet done |
My head swirls
My ears ring You say i'm going to live When i know i'm going to leave This is my life in the Holocaust Where i watched so many die While i tried to my family alive The man i love Was treated like a thug Beaten and flung But still he humed This is the Holocaust Where people fought Who would of thought That we would all be lost We all tried to servive Just to see the light But it only makes me want to fight To try to get back my free life With each hit The seed grows Until it almost overflows I saw all my friends die And i think i'm going to cry So i look at the sky Then i see your blue eyes You wrap me in your arms While you sing our song You say i shouldnt give them anything Not even my fear You call me your Krasivaya While you kissed my neck I swore not to cry How did i end up in the arms of a boy i barely knew While i wished i'd never lose you to So you whispered look at me I'll see you siin So just think about that Just think about me Because i'll be there. |
The traumatic Holocaust of World War Two
caused mass murder of Jewish society. God's children ~ neglected, rejected suffering great crime against humanity. Thousands of victims, pale with fear regretted the hour and day they were born. From one hell to another they were led... sharp was the thorn of history's cold morn. To heaven they prayed, each man and maid as from weary eyes, teardrops fell. And deep down in their hearts they knew a flame was near, with the force of a gale. Weeping, wheezing ~ the last farewell, drifting on smoky breeze, wording obscured. The smell of gas came seeping through as the Holocaust inferno ended their world. |
Why?My tears fall
My supplications flow My heart aches My soul shivers Atrocities, oppression, cruelty, a holocaust reborn so clear to the naked eye Why has the world turned a blind eye? |
Where Was The World? by Fiona SchwartzinoffThe gaunt figures of the holocaust
Walking silhouettes of dead. I wonder at their caved in eyes And their ghastly shaven heads. Their empty eyes gazing Into darkness everlasting Didn’t the world smell the gas Or hear the cries of lashing? Didn’t the world notice the vanished faces Or the empty houses or missing pearls? I look at their faces, the eyes of phantoms, And I wonder: where was the world? |