for Ms. Agnes, Holocaust survivor
they wore
stripes…
and stars pinned to chests
swollen with lies
they were sold to get them
there...still freshly ringing.
tired, hunrgy and huddled
they yearned
to breathe once again
a freedom
they had known
just days
before the death trains came
taking their
motherland,
their family,
their
identity,
their youth.
raining with a poison of generations
denied,
numb even
among the 7,000 remaining
they had no
thing left but a colossal loss
embossed with
apathy.
they were like
pinpoints on a black shroud.
we wear
stars . . .
endowed and silently
believing more than we should
the blurbs we
are told to keep us shielded behind borders.
like inscriptions
on a historical plaque,
we are
tired, poor and huddled.
hungry for
the ideal of our motherland
our family,
our identity,
our youth,
and our
freedoms
to know the
truth once and for all
