Reflection of Auschwitz

Those hopefuls that came with keys in their suitcase
and nervous smiles waiting, giddy for the better future,
that they were promised.
Those hopefuls who brought their clothing, brushes and shoes.
Those hopefuls who didn’t know any better,
that soon learnt that it didn’t get better.

Those with small, soft hands within their own
who didn’t think of tracing the lines of their palm,
to memorise the texture.
Parents who dutifully plaited golden locks in ribbon,
only to see it fall to a slate floor.
Small hands age quickly in fire.

You who were too weak to pick up your feet,
yet strong enough to wear away stone.
To bore marks into the ground with calloused heels.
You who were strong enough to stay stood,
When your family fell by your side.

She who gossiped on her lunch break.
She who knew that the list she compiled;
Was a hit list.
She who laughed on her days off,
She who had days off.

He who laughed as they begged for more food,
as they begged for freedom.
his fingers that condemned the weak with a point,
his fingers that were proficient with guns.
He who’d stop escape, if the barbed wire didn’t.

Those that watched as the Jews were taken.
As the Roma, homosexuals, disabled were taken.
Those who knew that lives were taken,
yet snitched on religious neighbours.
Those who were too scared to question.

Those of the 1.3 Million people who died there.
Those with names and favourite colours.
Those with pets, friends and favourite foods
with favourite books, places and songs.
Those who’s noses crinkled as they laughed.

Those who lived to tell their stories;
And 1.3 Million who didn’t.