An Ode to Children

Little Children, born and bred

Always did what mother said.

Mother said, "Wear David's star

- don't forget who you are."

Men in uniform, always watching,

Parading around with their big guns,

Rounding up Jews for deporting,

To the ghettos, where there is no fun.

The ghettos, oh so dirty,

With families crowded in one room.

No more learning, no more playing, never escaping

Beyong the walls.

Men drive trucks into the ghettos

To take away your family and friends

Then one day, they take you, too,

And you grow closer towards the end.

They load you up in cattle cars,

Packing you in like sardines,

Giving you little air to breathe, food to eat, water to drink,

Not caring what happens to you as long as you don't escape.

You travel for days, rarely stopping,

Until you reach your final destination.

Here your fate will be determined.

Now, your faith is put to the test.

If you are one of the lucky few,

You will see another day,

But if you are not,

You will be gassed, and your remains burned in flames.


You are to live and see at least one more day.

But this is not a cause for celebration

Because your days will be full of desperation

And you will wish that you were dead.

You never know what tomorrow brings,

At least you have today.

But it looks as if that's all about to change

As you are filed into a line.

You are lead through the camp,

Past the barracks and the smoking pits,

Stopping at the place, where acts of hate occur,

And death awaits all who enter the door.

They tell you to take off your clothes and lead you to a room.

It looks like a shower, but do not be deceived,

For today you are not to feel water on your skin,

Only the gas filling your lungs.

Your last thoughts are of your previous life,

And the life you could have had.

You remember all the ones you loved and all the happy times.

Then you remember where you are and that happiness is gone.

But don't you fret, little one,

Do not be sad.

Eternal happiness is moments away.

And, though your days were short in this life, in the next, they will not end.

So, goodbye, little one,

And know you did not die in vain.

You will always be remembered, maybe not in name,

But in innocence, and the hearts of all those who love.