Auschwitz Aria Poem by Joseph Cross

My eyes feel dark.
As they celebrate life.
Victory shines in their faces.
But my eyes feel dark,
And my tears stream down,
Like the blood taken from so many.

They were dead, all dead.
Even those who still breathed,
They were dead on the inside,
Shells broken on the shore,
Remnants of what had been,
Reminders of what will never be again.

To stand within those walls so tall,
Looking upon the smoke stacks,
Razor wire everywhere,
The shoes and spectacles piled so high,
Were like the bodies in their graves,
Shattered images of times long passed.

Even after the Führer died,
The memories remained strong.
No celebration for me,
No comfort possible in my soul.
The bodies never stopped piling up,
Just snow in a winter storm.

The suitcases stacked by the hundreds,
Names on each, but none to claim.
No comfort could I ever find,
From then to now, Berlin to Auschwitz,
Nowhere at all, no end to the pain.
All I feel is their suffering.

Few could know the horror found,
Lying scattered through the camps.
Ashes of the shattered souls,
Floated on the chilling breeze.
The graves inhaled our happiness,
And exhaled cold, dead air.

To stand on the edge of a scene so cold,
It chills the heart and soul.
The eyes of millions gazed sightless,
Drained of life and hope.
I wanted to die, to leave this scene,
But there were lives to save.

Sure we found plenty still alive,
But it wasn’t enough for us.
The lights of celebration are blurs.
The world reaches not my mind,
For I am still in Auschwitz,
Still looking on the shattered scene.