Poem
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There dwelleth a fair lady, convinced that all that doth glitter be gold,And she doth seek a stairway to yon celestial abode.When she arrives at her destined place, she shall perceive,If all the shops be shuttered, with but a word, she can cleaveTo that which she hath long sought—O, and she doth purchase a stairway
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Amid the wire and winter’s breath,Where silence echoes the song of death,A lone starling perched, dark and small,Sang to the void that answered its call. It fluttered near walls stained by grief,Among the ruins, beyond belief,Its wings beat fast against the grey,A fleeting dance in a world of decay. Above the barracks, cold and bare,It
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Steel serpents carved through dawn’s first light,A journey veiled in darkest night,Crammed boxcars held the silent screams,Of shattered lives and broken dreams. On iron trails, their hopes erased,Through countrysides, the engines raced,Families torn from all they knew,A past that dwindled from their view. No windows showed the path ahead,The air was thick with fear and
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My phonebook is thinning out, not by design but by fate.The numbers are still there yet calling them is meaningless, for there will be no answer.You would give anything just to hear that voice one more time.Sometimes you feel like just giving up, but you know it is disrespectful to those who never gave up
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The average book contains around 110,000 words. It’s estimated that approximately 11 million people were killed during the Holocaust. If each victim’s name were listed—just their names, without any stories or details—it would take about 100 books to include them all. But most victims had three names: a first, middle, and last. That triples the
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In Auschwitz, where shadows fall like heavy stones,And darkness reigns in the heart of despair,Amidst the echoes of silent groans,A solitary sparrow dared to share. Through barbed wire and sorrow, it flew,A fragile beacon of hope untamed,Its wings of freedom, a whispered clue,In a world where humanity was maimed. In the midst of anguish, it
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In Dachau’s shadowed, solemn ground,A flower blooms where chains were bound.Its petals whisper tales of grief,Yet offer weary hearts relief. Amidst the echoes of despair,A splash of color bright and rare,This fragile bloom defies the night,A testament of silent might. The soil that cradles bitter tears,Now nurtures hope through passing years.Its roots entwine with memories
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I know the sight of a mouse might freak some people out, but I believe the best way to tell the story of the Holocaust is by simplicity and small portions. That’s why I chose the mouse to use in the narrative of this poem. It is something we can identify with. In shadows deep,
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“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 howThe brave souls fought,
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Last year in June, I had the chance to visit Dachau, for lack of a better word, it was the highlight of my year. Strangely enough, it inspired me—in a creative way. In shadows cast by history’s hand,Where sorrow’s echo still commands,Lies a place where darkness roams,A haunting tale of Dachau’s home. Amongst the polar
History of Sorts 