HolocaustA Poem by _BATDOG_A short walk through the years of discrimination and brutality faced by Jews during the Holocaust.
The year was 1936 and the bomb called Hitler began to tick,
The Star of David some had wore, And for that the horrors they had bore They lived their lives from day to day in constant fear, For Hitler’s Third Reich reign was here The crime that caged their lives, no one could derive For the only guilt they knew, was being a German Jew, The year was 1938 and the lives of 200,000 souls was left to fate As November dawned once more, hatred once again struck at the core Every Jewish hospital and school was set ablaze, every home lost in the haze Not a single thing was spared and not a single alarm was blared The police and fire brigades just stood by as the flames lept sky high The Night of Broken Glass it was named, for all those left dead and maimed, The year was 1939 and the newspapers were flying Soon enough, the word of war had reached every family's door As the news began to spread, The bitter chill of autumn warned them of the harsh winter ahead, If only they had knew... it was the start of World War 2, The year was 1940 and life seemed like a horror story The day had finally come when the shadow cast out the light And with every hope dwindled no one knew how to set it right It seemed like any faith was squashed as so many were caught and left to rot, Some had ran and were able to escape Hitler’s clutch, Yet the reassurance offered by that wasn't much, The year was 1941 and it looked like the Nazis had won, Yet not everyone succumbed to fear just because the end was near They say the darkest hour is just before the dawn, And over the horizon, you could see the sun, Once the ghetto uprisings began to start The Jewish started to impart what what was felt in each bleeding heart, The year was 1942 and the Nazi regime only grew, There was nothing anybody could do As the unfair prejudices were left to brew against every Jew The hatred just continued to breed, leaving so many to bleed And so lived on Hitler’s vengeful reign, causing endless pain, The year was 1943 and it was time to go against the Nazi decree, Hearing of the Treblinka killing center and the fate of those who enter, Fear became an even greater tormentor, Yet the people’s aspiration and determination, Kept them fighting, even in the lonely Jewish ghetto of a broken nation Because even embers can be brought back to life As they ignite with inspiration and light, And the spark that started the fight, A 17-year-old girl named Emily Landau, Who launched a grenade into the crowd of Nazi officers with all her might, Though the first to fire, also the first to die With her last image being of the blue sky, But despite all efforts the battle ended with defeat And with only one man left alive to retreat Yet with both sides having shared a loss The Nazis were left aware they were in for a nightmare, The year was 1944 and everyone knew that concentration camps were something to abhor Treblinka, Belzec, Sobibor, and more, Hell’s entrance they were called And the stories that were told, left everyone appalled, Events that nobody wants to recall as millions were gassed, tortured, and burned Kitty Hart-Moxon was only 16 when her eyes lost their gleam, Joseph Ser, a young man born of many dreams, Watched his family be killed as his life was ripped away at the seams The year was 1945 and safety was about to arrive to those still alive, September came in a blaze, freeing everybody from their horror-filled days Every concentration camp gate was broken and left open, Every ghetto’s walls torn down, And every Jewish neighborhood welcomed back into their old town, But, by this point the damages had been done and 6 million Jewish lives were claimed, Most of which remained unnamed, Yet that is why we pay tribute to those who have fallen, those who had their lives stolen And those who had survived contribute to the remembrance of all they had been deprived. © 2017 _BATDOG_ |
StatsAuthor_BATDOG_AboutI'm an amateur writer that will probably publish stuff that I think is poetic but is actually pretentious, so please bear with me on my road to self-betterment! more..Writing
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