Theresienstadt Village Fair Poem by Sheena Blackhall

I’m Ruth, I’m seven years old
This place is not where I live!
My real home’s a pretty dream

Some strokes of my pencil
Will bring it alive for you

The merry go round’s such fun
My ears fill up with laughter, music, joy
The rise and fall of hooves on painted horses

If I close my eyes together and squeeze them tight
I can taste the ice cream, sweet and white, from a stall

If I close my eyes and wrap my arms around me
Very tight, Terezin melts like a lump of dirty snow

Whoosh! I’m up on a swing
Almost touching the clouds