Amdist the Smoke

I wrote this poem on my return from Auschwitz. It's my attempt to visulise what I must have been to stand, hepless, with your life in evil, godless hands...

The smoke swirls from the chimneys,

The feet drag across the gravel.

A Mother’s cry falls deadly silent:

As towards Man’s hell they travel.


Lines of grieving stripes, align.

The punishers heart, as hard as stone.

Each soul called a faceless number

Stands unprotected, godless and alone.


No matter what is written,

Or meaningful words that are spoke.

Can fix your weeping, breaking heart:

Rolling from the chimneys, the smoke...


The End

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