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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · History · #1039552
A poem written from the point of view of a Holocaust child. Please comment.
Concentration Camp

I woke up this morning,
Three weeks since the day,
When my entire life was destroyed,
And my possessions taken away.

My family was packed on the cattle cars,
My parents and us three kids,
While the Nazi soldiers jeered at us,
Calling us “Juden” and “yids.”

We got to a camp called Auschwitz,
The sign there said work would set us free,
But I had a terrible feeling,
And I knew that was not how it would be.

A doctor divided us into two group,
Some on the left, some on the right,
My mother and brothers went to the left,
I have not seen them since that night.

Every day I awaken,
Get a meager meal and work,
I often get whipped for my stubborness,
And our commanding officer is a real jerk.

Some people have talked about escaping,
I want to join them and flee,
But then I think, maybe only in death,
Will I realize what it means to be free.

So I wait and linger in the barracks,
I have lost all will to survive,
But hopefully, someday, someone,
Will keep my people’s tradition alive.
© Copyright 2005 Hammerman (writer27 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1039552-Concentration-Camp