Shoa: The Holocaust Poem by Steven Reeve

Breaking glass, Kicked in doors,
In the middle of the night they came,
Rousing us from our beds,
Out, Out, Out, they screamed.

In to the cattle trucks went we,
Overcrowded and unable to move,
Stifling heat and foetid air,
Onwards, ever onwards down the track.

Another has died and yet one more,
Into the corner we pile our dead,
Five days, six days,
Nothing to drink nor eat.

At long last the train does stop,
The door is opened and the cold floods in,
Out, Out, Out they scream,
Out we get, but the dead remain.

A sign we do see,
'Work Makes Free', it does read,
Look at him who greets us,
It is he, 'The Angel of Death'.

To the right, to the left,
To the left is instant death,
To the right, one more lingering,
Look, this is Hell.

Stripped of all possessions and dignity,
Marked with a new name,
Separated families, now lost to time,
Utter bewilderment, how could this be.

The faces of death,
The smell of burning flesh,
Abandoned and forsaken,
Enslaved once more.

Beaten and starved,
Objects solely of derision,
Praying only for death as a sweet release,
No longer Human, this is who we are.

The murder of a race,
The extinguishing of life,
Do not forgive them Lord,
For they know, what they do.

Many choose the wire,
Death more favourable than life,
This is the gateway to Hell,
Man, its loyal gatekeeper.

How many more must die,
Showers that stream down death,
On young and old alike,
Succour, there is none.

My days have come to an end,
Let me not be forgotten,
Let my death not be in vain,
Remember, remember.