Holocaust: To my children I will tell
Stories from the Holocaust
To my children I will tell
How my beginning was living hell
They will hear what I went through
And as a child what I was forced to do
I will tell them of a time
When those who ruled were not benign
And I will tell them in such a way
That they won’t quiver at what I say
But there is that which I will not tell them
For there is that which they should not hear
Not until their small ears are ready
Till they can know my story more clear
I will not tell them how I was taken away
And would not see my parents another day
I will not tell them of how I was to die
Because of the color of my hair, skin, and eye
I will not tell them of how I was tossed aside
With nobody I knew, nobody in whom I could confide
I will not tell them of how we were forced to work
Covered in mud, our own blood, and dirt
I will not tell them of how we all starved
Or of the images that in my mind are so deeply carved
I will not tell them of how I had to watch my friends die
In the ghettos where I lived and their bodies lie
No, they will not yet hear of the killing chambers
Where thousands of my people died surrounded by complete strangers
I will not tell them of the screaming and crying
And all the sounds of my loved ones burning and dying
I will not tell them of the mass graves
Of the pools of blood in which all the bodies bathed
I will not tell them of how the dead were thrown in piles
And how the rotting stench went on for miles
But I will tell them of how with what little we made
We could still sneak away to get food in a trade
Even though the task was so dangerous
And when we would return our numbers would continue to be less and less
Even if we could only get a bite
It would give us enough hope to last another night
And I will tell them of those whose own lives they risked
Those who sacrificed and those I so dearly miss
Those who gave everything just for me to safely hide
When the men came looking, they would keep me out of sight
And I will tell them of those who came and fought back
Against the ruthless and seemingly endless attack
Who helped me go back to the safety and comfort of home
Who made me feel no longer so alone
Those who held out their war torn hand
And escorted me back to my own land
I will tell them of all the men
Who let me safely live my life again
To my children I will tell
Of those I loved and those I lost
And to my children I will tell
Of the heroes of The Holocaust