“In shadows deep where nightmares dwell,
A chapter etched in history’s spell.
Holocaust, your bitter tale,
Of anguish, loss, and skies so pale.
From ghettos choked with sorrow’s breath,
To camps where darkness met with death,
The human spirit, tested, tried,
Yet hope, a flicker, never died.
In ashes rose a solemn vow,
To never forget, to honor how
The brave souls fought, the martyrs bled,
Their legacy, a light ahead.
Though time may blur the lines of pain,
Their stories echo, clear, remain.
For in their memory, we find
The strength to heal, the will to bind.
Holocaust, a solemn cry,
A testament to those who lie
In fields of silence, never rest,
Their voices echo, we attest.
So let us stand, and let us vow,
To keep alive their sacred now.
In remembrance, let us strive
For peace, for justice, to revive.”
The photograph adorning the beginning of the blog captures a poignant moment in the life of Herman David Santcroos. He was born in Amsterdam on 10 June 1943, and tragically passed away in Meerlo, the Netherlands, on 19 October 1944, just reaching the age of one.
Under the care of Mr. and Mrs. Nabben, he was one of the Jewish foster children during a tumultuous period in history. Herman’s mother, a survivor of the Holocaust, endured unspeakable suffering, only to return from Auschwitz in search of her beloved child. Her heart-wrenching anguish persisted as she learned of her son’s passing, and the anguish of the Holocaust haunted her every waking moment. Each new day began without her precious son by her side, a reminder that for her, the scars of the Holocaust would never truly heal. Every breath was a testament to the enduring pain and loss that no passage of time could ever erase.
“Where horrors scarred both heart and hand,
Amidst the shadows, dark and deep,
A fragile bloom dared rise from sleep.
In soil stained with tears of pain,
Where memories of loss remain,
A flower bloomed, a symbol bright,
Defiant ‘gainst the endless night.
Its petals, soft, a whispering grace,
A tender touch in desolate space,
A beacon of hope, though frail it seemed,
In a landscape haunted, where nightmares teemed.
With each petal unfurled, a silent plea,
For remembrance, for humanity,
To never forget the lives once lost,
Nor the innocence at such a cost.
For in that flower, Auschwitz’s bloom,
Lies a story of resilience in gloom,
A testament to the human will,
To endure, to survive, against all ill.
So let us cherish this Auschwitz flower,
A symbol of hope, of strength, of power,
And vow to keep its memory bright,
In the darkest of days, in the blackest of night.”
Sources
https://www.joodsmonument.nl/en/page/181236/herman-david-santcroos
History of Sorts 