Blog Post #3

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The Flames
By Owen
There was a woman among us, her name Mrs. Schacter

A quiet, tense women with piercing eyes
On the first day of the journey, she had already begun to moan.
She kept asking why she had to be separated from her family.
Later, her sobs and screams became hysterical.
As we were sleeping, a piercing cry broke the silence.
Fire! I see fire!I see fire!.
Some pressed against the bars to see. There was nothing. Only the blackness of the night.
Around eleven o'clock, the train began to move again. The convoy was rolling slowly. 
 A quarter of an hour later, it began to slow down even more.
Through the windows, we saw barbed wire; we understood that this was the camp.
"Jews, look! Look at the fire! Look at the flames!"
And as the train stopped, this time we saw flames rising from a tall chimney into a black sky.
We stared at the flames in the darkness. A wretched stench floated in the air.
We jumped out. I glanced at Mrs. Schächter. Her little boy was still holding her hand.
In front of us, those flames.
It must have been around midnight. 

We had arrived In Birkenau.

Comments

  1. AnonymousOctober 27, 2019 at 12:00 PM

    your poem does a very good job showing how the old lady on the train is slowly going insane as they grow closer to birkenua. "her sobs and screams became hysterical.". goodjob.

    ReplyDelete

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