A voice through poetry

There are things that have happened in this world and are still happening. People need to be reminded, and with this awareness, I hope, it will somehow shift the majority to action. An action to prevent these atrocities from reoccurring. This poem was written for those whos voice no longer is able to cry out. May those brave reporters of the world continue to seek out the truths and help bring justice to those responsible.

1942

Bad memories, all in a dream

Screams and shouts are all we heard

The luxury of survival,

who enters the camp unknown, unseen.

Feelings for comfort are all but forgotten,

Embarrassment has waned,

and pain, a well known friend, and a wish

to see the sunshine for one more day remained.

Is it time? Must we prepare our souls?

What have we done and

why is this hatred in man so cold.

Do they feel themselves at all?

Can they sleep with those thoughts at night,

and their feelings for the wrongs

are able to to survive them through the sights?

A smoke stack now is burning,

un-wanting to know the fuel.

So much is lost in this lifetime,

and the ashes having no time to cool.

Ashes belonging to someone

forever lost in time.

For some their fate, unknown to others

and those who knew, not fine.

Children the hardness, not understanding,

such cruelty must endure.

Our future generations vanish

before our eyes they lure.

Will others remember such evil

still grows in many seeds.

That could one day sprout together

for on other souls it feeds.

Be strong against this virus,

no matter how long it takes.

It must be checked, forever,

so never to surface amongst the Human Race.

Gustav Ykema 1980