2024 Little Polish Boy
Morristown High School, Morristown, NJ
Einsatzgruppen (mobile killing units)
Hanna Cochran
The ground was no longer ground.
Street ruts filled with rain, tasting blood.
The ground was no longer ground
Because no one could run anymore.
It was something to fall through
Where the dirt from the scatter would only be flattened
by the next soldier’s boots.
The sidewalk favored one directionalism;
So many caught before they could run
The wrong way.
So many without shoes, or winter stockings.
Bone-frost in their knee caps and knuckles,
The ground no longer holding them or—
Home for them.
The Little Polish Boy’s Cap
Michelle Ona
The boy beneath me trembles
Shaking me more with each step
He breathes quickly and harshly
His footsteps disappear
As the others follow
His tears
Drowned out by their march
From a boy
To one of six million
His hands raised
To either side of his head
For a long time
Too long
They shake violently
Under the weight
It flattens me to his head
The crime
Of being alive
Eyes
Christopher Cioffi
Your gun points down.
Dark boots against the ground.
Standing tall,
As they
Pass by
But where are your eyes?
I see two black voids.
Dark as the night sky
Against a face of stone
A woman looks back at you,
But you do not see her.
You tell yourself she is not there.
But even through your voids
She still stares.
I ask you to open your eyes.
Put the gun down.
And look back,
At the woman who stares.
A Flickering Light
Kayleigh McDonnell
As a Star of David,
my light once radiated.
Bathing you in my brilliance,
I was once clasped around your neck.
Providing comfort and familiarity, always there.
Now I rest upon your arms,
marking you for death.
My once bright light meant to guide you,
now used to persecute you.
I can do nothing as I watch the decimation.
Yet, I still hear your prayers at night
pleading for the safety of your children and people.
As a Star of David,
I fear that I have betrayed you.
As I am forced to be used against you,
but still your faith does not wane.
I long for the day I am removed from your arm.
And am clasped upon your neck.
Lady in the Crowd
Sophia Lacroix
Lady in the crowd with your hands up,
carrying a little bag. Standing and looking away.
I hope one day you find the strength not to look away.
To not be frightened.
To not have to be looked at with violence and hate.
To not have Nazi guns pointed at you.
Lady in the crowd with your hands up,
carrying a little bag. Standing and looking away.
I hope you don’t have to face anymore fear.
I hope you have your freedom back.
To not have to run and hide from the world.
Lady in the crowd, with your hands up,
carrying a little bag. Standing and looking away.
I hope you feel the light you once did.
Feel the warmth you once had.
The joy you once carried.
Lady in the crowd,
I hope you no longer have to stay in the crowd.
Far Away
Dillon Walker
Where has love gone?
Far away
Far enough that it is unreachable?\
No
But faint enough that many think it is gone?
Yes
With hands up
Face to face with fear
Love is faint but still there.
Far away but it is not going anywhere.
Amongst the crowd not knowing what will happen next,
A little heart saying love will be the answer to this test.
Far away but still not gone,
Love keeps singing its little song.
Actions of hate will never rid the world of love,
No matter how hard it tries,
But when will our world finally be as pure as a dove?
The Boots
Charlotte Helmer
The boots
The black boots the little Polish boy wore
The boots that walked through the debris
The boots that were never able to see the green grass
The black boots that stepped over those who have fallen
Those black boots -
The boots that never got to see the little Polish boy smile.
Star
George Spenser
A stiffening silence
Paced by a moving crowd
Mouths open
Ajar, a corkscrew
Nothing comes out
As there is no form of language
To properly inscribe
The suffering
Of a star
In the center
Of the world
To become the center of the crowd
The center of a silent expanse
There he sits
The star
By his lonesome
The star
Completely
Alone
Scorned Star
Natalie Verga
As bright as you should shine
As lovingly as you should twinkle
As far as you should shoot
Across the sky
You standout, singing proud
But it is a shameful song you voice
It is a song of oppression
Of violence
Of death and blood
A song of fear
Where people must shun and hate
What makes them shine
As much as you stand out
But it’s for all the wrong reasons.
Stars
Cate Sebiri
That big yellow star shining so bright on the pitch-black cloth of your coat,
The night sky looks so familiar for all the wrong reasons.
Your Legacy Lives on Forever
Chris Lopez
As chaos wraps its wings around
You stand there
Among hundreds who surround you
Afraid and worried
I would feel the same
Had I been there too
You never wanted this, did you?
None of you did
Their clacking boots
And shiny guns
Order you to march
To a fate you don’t deserve
It is sad to see
How events have brought you
To your ultimate fate
I am sorry
That no one was there for you
When you needed salvation
But your legacy lives
Forever on
We will not forget
The suffering you have gone through
As chaos wraps its wings around
Your story came to an end
But we will always tell it
To those who must listen
We will not forget
Your legacy
We will not forget
Your struggle
We will not forget
Your story
Little Polish Boy
Aubrey Jordan
I stood there
Surrounded
Trapped with people watching me
Gunshots going every second
I thought every bullet hit me
They didn’t
I was consumed with fear
Afraid of what people had become
Thinking
They were once young like me
It all happened so fast
Like the blink of an eye
The gunshot fired
I was safe
Just not home.
My little Polish boy
ABrinana
Standing with your little hat
On your head
Standing in the ghetto
With your arms up
As many nazi machine guns
Pointing at you
I look back and feel helpless to help you
My little Polish boy
Seeing your childhood end before my eyes
I feel even more helpless to know I can’t give it back
The world fell silent as
Those many nazi machine guns
Pointing at you
There are no words to say to change our outcome
But I am sorry my little Polish boy
I’m sorry I stood there and said nothing
To the Soldier on the Side with his Gun Drawn
Ollie Rosenthal
Could you just not be satisfied being safe
Safe to roam the streets
Safe from being gunned down or captured
Safe from being a little Polish boy standing with his arms up
The Reality of a Nightmare
Kaylee Romeo
You stand there with your hands up and your face glum
With your long coat and raised socks
With your beat-up cap, you stand there
In the silence
Waiting
Hoping
Dreaming
For the nightmare to be over
A Message to the Little Polish Boy
Josie Maniscalco
Little boy, you must be so scared,
With your armband on and your hands in the air.
I cannot imagine having to be so scared,
to live in your own skin
Walking outside is terrifying for you.
You
Must
Not
Be
Able
To
B
R
E
A
T
H
E
The Hands
Leah Goroway
To the hands that tremble in the air,
I am truly sorry that you had to be rounded up like cattle, forced to put your hands up,
dehumanized.
The hands, they represent all the millions of of people murdered.
They represent the fear and trembling felt in Jews hearts.
They represent six million hands.
Six million Jews wrongfully taken from their homes, thrown into concentration camps and ghettos, murdered by hundreds in gas chambers.
Innocent men, women and children murdered only because of the religion they practice.
These hands are reaching out, asking for help from the world.
Did the world help?
No, millions stood betrayed by their peers, pleading for help.
Millions were murdered and the world remains unfazed.
In today’s world, I wish I could give these people my hand, help them since no one else did.
I only hope that today we help each other that we give each other our hands to stop persecution
of individuals based on religion.
Let our hands come together and remember the twelve million taken for no good reason.
The world should no longer be silent, and our hands no longer tremble.
Elva Sivertsson
Heartless
Soldier
Soldier looking upon the people.
People with their hands up,
Scared for their lives.
You feel superior to them,
don’t you?
Where’s your soul at?
Soldier looking upon the innocent people.
People looking at you, hopeless.
You feel superior to them,
don’t you?
Where’s your humanity at?
Silent Loudness
Ethan Santos
Behind they stand
Monuments to so-called righteousness
With hatred towards the rest
The click of magazines
Especially loud
When the world has gone silent
The sound of wailing children
And begging mothers
Was apparently quieter so
To the Nazi Soldier with a Gun in his Hands
Madelyn Glaser
You awful, shameful person,
You, Nazi soldier
Standing straight at the
Little Polish boy
with a gun in your hands
and a stern expression on
your face
I wish you could see
Who you are harming,
the innocent Polish boy
with his hat on his head
and his hands up
Standing straight
At the Little Polish
Boy with a
gun in your
hands and
a stern
expression on
your face
I’m very
sorry
that
you
couldn’t
have
made
a better
choice
The Weapon in Your Hands
Andrew Choi
How does it feel?
The weapon in your hands
Do you feel stronger holding it?
Who are you without it?
How does it feel, soldier?
How does it feel?
to see a little boy as your own son
running away from you
In fear of the weapon in your hands
How does it feel, soldier?
How does it feel?
To see an innocent lady as your own wife
Being tortured for her beliefs
In fear of the weapon in your hands
How does it feel, soldier?
How does it feel?
To see the elderly as your own parents
taking their final breaths
In fear of the weapon in your hands
How does it feel, soldier?
How did it feel?
The weapon in your hands
Did it protect you?
Did you kill with it?
How does it feel?
Look of Hatred
Cora Minchello
The feeling of disgust has painted my face green.
The guard, standing tall and firm
As if he is proud of himself.
How can he feel proud when his hand holds a killing machine
And it is aimed at an innocent boy.
A boy with his whole life ahead of him.
He might have a gun but I shoot at him.
My eyes send bullets, hoping they can pierce through his skin.
The look of hatred.
The little Polish Boy
Yamile A. Bentancur Luke
I stood there not knowing what to do
But I most definitely knew how to feel though
Words couldn’t even describe my feelings
Fear was probably the only thing running through my mind
I stood there in the crowd
not being able to do anything but put my hands up and freeze
as I stared into the eyes of the men who held me at gunpoint
I saw no remorse
no regret
no pain
nothing
just an endless void of emptiness and never ending insanity
machine gun pointed at my temple
I stood there looking through the windows of the cold-blooded man’s soul with and enormous feeling of dehumanization and wonder
Within a blink of an eye
my life could be taken
Just as fast as it was given
In the hand of the merciless soldier
My life lies
For All the Words You Could Not Speak
Lily Wintermute
To the dear little Polish boy, with your face so pale,
And your eyes so somber.
You began to worry, to hope, to fall, to rebuild yourself again.
You felt what it meant to be alive, and for that they thought you should die.
Too good of a soul, too full of a heart to live in such a cruel world, where they believe only the heartless shall survive.
You begin to think, one million words in one second.
And if you only had a bit more time, in a different place, in a different world,
And if maybe you held onto mother’s hand a little longer,
Together you would be unbreakable, stronger.
And if metal and machinery was created to assist
And if the words you dared to speak were as sharp as knives,
Maybe they would cower beneath you, spare your lives.
But now you are out of time, and the world doesn’t wait for you to catch your breath,
To open your mouth and speak the words you know may be the very last,
To leave your final message and to curse the spot you stand.
But you are not hatred and hate will not consume your heart as it has others,
For you are only a boy,
And the world is too cruel.
Oh Little Polish Boy
Abby Guevara
Oh how you stand there boy
Oh, the fear turning into quickened river streams,
Going down your pale frightened face Polish boy.
How you stand there in fright as the unsettling sound of guns,
Point in your direction not knowing if the gun will
Be for you.
Oh the fear I sense in the innocence of your warmhearted soul
Oh little Polish boy it’s not your fault
Oh little Polish boy how I fear for you with a heartache
Touching my soul knowing you are standing while I observe
And while they watch you with a restless face and no remorse,
It’s like they don’t have a soul as it is not them but you.
Oh little Polish boy how I fear for you
But they just watch you and objectify you with a star clipped onto your chest
But oh little Polish boy listen to me you are not an object as you are
Seen by me you are a child a person what they don’t seem to see.
Oh little Polish boy how I wish to help you as you stand there but
I Sit here helplessly
Oh little Polish boy I wish I could help you
How I wish you could see
You the Soldier
Lilian Crean
Did you feel guilt?
or sympathy?
or regret?
or, anything at all?
You the soldier
Front & Center
How can a person
Point a rifle at someone
that scared
that young
& not feel
anything.
You the soldier
Front & Center
Your face looks mean
Evil perhaps
But it implies guilt
perhaps
At least recognition I hope
You the Soldier
Front & Center
What led you here?
Standing there with
your rifle and uniform
ready to shoot a
scared little boy
& others
so many others
You the Soldier
Front & Center
What made you
Stand so close
Others watched from
the back
But not you
You the Soldier
Front & Center
You are proudly up front
Clearest view
Of soon to be chaos
& heart wrenching
You may not even flinch
You the Soldier
Front
&.
Center.
Escape
Kaitlyn McNutt
Pushed through the crowd,
Bags held close to our chest.
The cobble stoned ground
Full of divots and cracks.
We walk carefully,
Hoping we won’t trip.
But as quick as we are,
They still hustle us through.
Guns pointed at us,
At our young children.
Children who should know
Nothing of this life
Through the gates of the ghetto,
Stumbling out onto the street,
Hands held high and
Heads ducked low.
Walking into the next,
Into the where and why.
We are sure of nothing,
But each other’s existence
Something that may not be
So true come sunset.
Nothing: At Least
Morgan Langsorf
The ground
Mudded from rain; one would think
Instead is puddled from tears
Tears that drip down
From the young pale cheeks
The size-four footprint left leaving
A mark beside each drop
Hats and coats pile
On the side
Torn from heads and backs
Of those innocent
Stripped of more than just their
Clothes
Stripped of everything
At least
Women of Poland
Alexis Smock
The women of Poland
how are your arms now
are they still decorated with
those stars on your arms?
Picture Day
Mackenzie Ilias
Oy, photographer!
You’re not in frame,
You’re not part of the scene.
Hop in,
know your part
clean your lens
fix the angle
Step in
Step up!
How do you do it?
Diara Ricketts
How do you do it?
You stand there
With your arms up
Knowing the world is against you
You felt the world’s view of you shift
How did you withstand the enclosed transit?
You should be playing tag.
You should be in school.
You should be making handshakes with your friends.
Instead,
You stand there
With your hands up
Feeling the hatred the world shows you
How do you do it?
Forced to Burn
Alec Ratterree
A star burning as bright as any
A star burning as bright as any child
However
something is wrong
The star isn’t free
This star burning not for want but for requirement
This star does not want to burn
This star does not want to die
All this star wants is to be free
This star stripped of innocence
This star shackled
This star captive
This star losing purpose
This star lost
This star manipulated
This star pillaged
to the point of no meaning
This star vanished
Thoughts
Melanie Tecalco
I’m sitting on my desk analyzing a photo from years ago
Not knowing exactly what they are feeling
No matter what way someone explains it you’ll never understand
I try to put myself in their shoes but everything doesn’t feel real
How does someone think of something so cruel
Many people didn’t even come though I didn’t know them
As time goes on people will never forget but will things get worse
Where Am I Going?
Ella Drake
I don’t know where I’m going.
Am I being freed?
As I stand with my arms up
With the Nazis pointing their guns at me
The gun that could end my life
They have all the power
I don’t realize the people around me
I stand still and stare
I am cold and hungry
Am I being freed?
I thought of my parents
Everyone’s eyes wide open
Yet everyone was blind
Where am I going?
I Hope Not
Asher R. Klindt
Lady looking over
At the guns, at the Nazi
At the little Polish boy
“Where are his parents?”
“Where are they now?
Or maybe she is the boy’s mother
“Dear scared son of mine…”
To the gun pointing down
At the innocent little boy
With his hands up
He must be so scared
To be so little and to be held at gunpoint
Does the gun want to be there?
Pointed at the little boy’s ankles
Used to cause terror and pain and war
I hope not, but I will never know
Disaster
Kaityn Salazar
The collective trembling of the scared Jews
has made the ground shake, just like an earthquake.
This situation isn’t quite a natural disaster,
definitely a disaster, but not natural at all.
Fear of Power
Sophia Hyman
Power leads while fear controls
The fear that I felt took it tolls
My hands in the air
His helmet hiding his hair
The star on my chest too away
The humanity I had left that day
The gun in his hand
Searing into his palms like a brand
Forgetting is not an option for me
Its effect stays stuck
The fear is ingrained in me.
A Soldier’s Shame
Sylvia Smith
Why him?
Why her?
Why me?
I stand alone, tough as nails
In shame of what I must do
Two innocent civilians
Blamed for a mark put on them
This is my fault
But I must follow through
If I wish to not end up like them
Why him?
Why her?
Why me?
The Soldier with the Gun
Ainsley Avers
I don’t know how he can just stand there
Taunting us with death
The soldier with the gun
His face is not remorseful
He herds us like cattle
Some say it’s his life or ours
But I still don’t understand
How can our fear not change his mind
The soldier with the gun
He knows our fate
He still points his gun
His heart must be so full of hate
I wish I could ask him my questions
How does he sleep at night?
How does he carry on?
I can’t understand
The soldier with the gun.
FROZEN
David Waldorf
Frozen
I stand there
Unable to move
Arms in the air
Everyone around me
Being moved
Tones of chatter and
Crying
A Star of David gets put on me
Outing me
While a soldier points a gun at me
Ready to fire
My legs are shaking
My neck hurts
My hands are cold
I stand in the mud
With a gun pointing at me
My Star of David on my chest
My arms in the air
Frozen
Childhood
Maggie Fitzgerald
My head snaps down to you as I see fear flash across your face,
Little Polish boy.
Our hands raised in surrender
do nothing to protect us from the Nazi’s aim
You are still so young, with so much life left to live
Why target the youth, Nazis?
I’m no army member, but I see no fun in torturing the young
Yet,
Your two little hands raise in surrender
As fear flashes across your face.
I can’t help but think about childhood.
One that should be filled with
Joy and games, and toys, and friendships
Not
Guns and concentration camps, and Nazis raiding your home
It saddens me to see you go through this
My poor, poor little Polish boy.
The Truth About How the Little Polish Boy Feels
Arsin Antico
The little boy is terrified
He has seen things and knows things little boys shouldn’t
He is terrified for what comes next
He is terrified for where he is going
He is treated more like a farm animal than a human
Marked as something instead of someone
All because he is what they see as different
He knows what lies ahead but has no choice
But to continue forward
All he can do is hope and pray
that he will be one of the “lucky” ones
Eyes of Witness
Emma Balzano
As the little Polish boy stands there in fear
Behind him is the perspective of others,
Standing there with the Nazis point guns at him
The only power he has is keep his hands up,
He stands still
The little Polish boy with fear in his eyes,
Not being able to do anything,
He’s just a kid.
The End
Ryan Lavin
I threw my hands up as the guns were point at me
I was running out of the building
Why me?
What did I do?
I wondered as I stood there in the ghetto
With my hands up
I started to cry as I realized these were
My last moments on earth
As I stood there in the ghetto with my hands up.
An Open Letter to the Nazi Soldiers
A. Van
Dear Mr. Soldier,
I shouldn’t say “dear”
You are as dear to me
As headlights to a deer.
Detested Mr. Soldier
Do you have eyes with which to see?
Do you have lungs with which to breathe?
Do you have hands with which to hold?
If not, where did you leave them?
Beside your bed? In your mother’s grave?
Did you claw them off in blind faith?
If yes, do you deserve them?
I’ll claw them off for you.
Perhaps then you’ll learn to use them.
Detested Mr. Soldier
You are a deer
You are in the headlights
And I sit behind the wheel
I Can Relate
Bella Sebiri
As my eyes find the little Polish boy in the photo,
I can relate to this little boy
For being persecuted for his religion
I know that I would’ve been persecuted for my religion.
My heart yearns to reach out and grab him.
To bring him to safety.
To bring him to a world where he could freely express himself
I related to this boy
Because even in a world of love there is still hate
Why?
Ava Altschul
Why should a little boy have to
Fear for his life because
Grown men are pointing
Guns at him without understanding what he did?
That’s something people who
were born with power
wouldn’t have to worry about being that
scared in a lifetime
The numbness in the soldier’s faces
Pointing a gun at a helpless
Little boy desperately trying to show
Them that he is not a threat with his
Arms up
I Come from the Darkest
Loany S.
I come from the darkest
memories, where everyone
was afraid to
stand up and
change the world.
A happy place that could
Make us stronger, wake up
Without having to worry
What would happen
Tomorrow, being able to
Breathe, walk, run,
Being free.
Surrender
Micheline Barthe
Oh little Polish boy with your arms so high not sure why
With your black coat now afloat
Oh little Polish boy with your arms so high
surrender now for that is why.
The Star
Selah Raphael
A little boy.
A little Polish boy.
Standing with the Star of David on his coat.
A symbol of his identity
A symbol of why he’s being persecuted
Now made an identifier that seals the fate of him and his people
Why Do They Matter?
Nathaniel Ross
Who is that?
Why do they matter?
They are but pawns in a much larger game
A game about destruction.
I ask why not let him go?
One little Polish boy stuck in this unforgiving world?
His life shortened by the choices of one man.
And for what?
Does the death of millions justify your means?
What are your means?
Do they justify anything?
Did the death of millions give you what you wanted?
The Star They Pinned on You
Alexis Moran
I look down at you
My little Polish boy,
The star they pinned on your jacket shines,
It shines brighter than the future I had wished for you
A future away from the cold hard gaze of soldiers
Where your identity is determined by what you love and the love I have for you,
Where you, my little Polish boy, can shine as bright as you desire,
Brighter than the star they pinned on you,
And brighter than the identity they pinned on you with it
Fear
Nina Gustavsen
hands up
eyes wide in terror
frozen in fear
not knowing what will come next
all eyes on the
little Polish boy
The Soldier and Me
Cooper McCormick
I saw the soldier take away
Some people to a place
Far, far away
I watched in horror
Anger
Sadness
I would meet him again
When we were free
Where some partisans and I
Found him behind a tree
I grabbed his pistol
And aimed it at him
He no longer had the power
To round us up anymore
“Please, please,” he said
“I only followed orders”
he said
I was told to kill him
And pondered on that
He might have been guilty
But could have been
Innocent
So, I shot him in the leg
And said,
“Limp away,
And
Never
Come
Back.”
He then hobbled away
And was never seen again
My gunshot and saying must
have scared him so greatly
He disappeared and vanished
Without a trace
My Hands Up High
Shalyce Watson
Immediately
As soon as the guards arrived
That’s how fast my hands went into the sky
Like a game of Simon says
Other hands shoot up
I held my breath
Shall I exhale,
It could be my last breath
Shall I look the guards in the eye,
It could be my last sight
So I don’t
I stand still as a rock
The more still
The more invisible
The more invisible
The better chance to live
So I hold my hands up high
They ache,
My heart does too
They could kill me if they really wanted to
The guards watch
Their eyes like a sensor
One wrong move,
BANG
That’s all we’ll hear
So, I keep my hands up high
They won’t see me
I shall survive
With my hands up high
Crime is Existence
Isaac Litman
You don’t know what’s going on
Confusion and fear fill you
And those around you
“Why are they doing this?”
You’ve questioned numerous times
At once
The surrounding soldiers keep you
Where you are now
Orders from above their ranks
Instruct them
They stand at bloodthirsty
But stoic attention
Impatiently waiting for everyone
To comply
You, however, are just being told what to do
You don’t know what you did wrong
But no one your age knows why either
Those who question are unsure
And those who know are long gone
Before the answer could be uttered
Know, however, you did nothing wrong
You are the perpetrator of a crime
You did not commit
You didn’t deserve this life
Little Polish boy
Why?
Kylie Pfeffer
Why?
Standing there
Watching this innocent Polish boy
Why?
How do you defend your actions?
When all this is over
And you’ve taken countless lives
What will you say?
To your son, who looks just like the little Polish boy
To your wife, who looks just like the woman surrendering with fear
To yourself, who blindly follows a cause no matter the consequences
Why?
Why devote your life to this?
Why wake up everyday knowing your agenda is to murder?
In this moment
Watching a helpless boy, full of fear for his life
As yourself
Why?
The Feeling
Isabella Torres
My hands are held up with fear
I wonder if the Nazis feel any resentment
The dirt on my legs have been through a lot
My heart feels anguish as guns are pointed at me
My body shivers as I see dead bodies
The Lost Soldier
Patrick Ruiz
I stand tall peering down on
Poor
Terrified
Completely innocent children
Nothing can ease the pain
It eats my soul
Wishing I wasn’t forced
Forced to kill them
I’m a villain
From my favorite Marvel movie
A monster
On a hill
The strict teacher
Nobody likes
I am Sorry.
I Am a Star
Empress Larkins
I am a star with meaning
A star with purpose
A star that represents
A star that represents the German government policy
That is being placed on Jews for identification
Failure to wear me is fatal
To the Little Polish Boy Who Can’t be More Than Eight
Sajayda Marie Louissaint
The fear in his eyes says it all.
He should be in the front yard playing with a big red ball.
Instead, he is being gunned down. To the little Polish boy,
I am sorry.
I am sorry that your childhood was stripped and stolen from you.
I am sorry.
I am sorry that you were face-to-face with guns instead of playing with little boys your age
To the little Polish boy,
WE ARE SORRY
The Grey Picture
Sa’mya Richburg
Staring at the picture
Of the little Polish boy,
One can’t help but feel bad
The little hat that rested on the boy’s head
His hands raised high
The terrified look in his eye
The star on the boy’s coat
The debris on the ground
The Nazis with guns all around
The look of horror
The fear of the unknown
The of what is to come
One can’t help but feel bad
For the little boy in front
For the people being taken
Not knowing they are being sent to die
To My Little Polish Boy
ABrianna Smith
Standing with your little hat
On your head
Standing in the ghetto
With your arms up
As many Nazi machine guns
Pointing at you
I look back and feel helpless to help you
My little Polish boy
Seeing your childhood end before my eyes
I feel even more helpless to know I can’t give it back
The world fell silent as
those many Nazi machine guns
Pointing at you
There are no words to say to change our outcome
But I am sorry my little Polish boy
I’m sorry I stood there and said nothing.
I Come from the Darkest Memories
Loany S.
I come from the darkest
memories, where everyone
was afraid to
stand up and
change the world.
A happy place that could
Make us stronger, wake up
Without having to worry
What would happen tomorrow, being able to
Breathe, walk, run
Being free.
It’s All the Same
Naja Spence
I don’t flinch,
Head low,
Hands up, it’s
All the same.
Don’t care to move,
Care to strike,
Or care to claim
What had been mine.
My cries fight a silent battle,
My hands wrinkle like paper,
And somehow, I know too,
That I am to be thrown away.
Carried by the sound of hate
Mother looking down on me,
Sorrow clouds her eyes, Oh,
Why?
Why do we go on,
Fight for what is burned,
Fight for the dead,
Fight for a single breath?
It’s all the same, same
White cloak that ties us,
Bound to the same thing that ends us,
Same hallow cry.
Endless battle,
Walk and muffled,
Even the photos can’t capture the pain,
Simply cannot.We strive on battle,
Choked on tears,
Bruises on about everywhere until one,
Only one decides to shoot,
It’s all the same.
The Mark
Leila Myers
I can’t even imagine what’s going on in this moment.
When people think of stars, normally that’s a good thing.
You are used to mark and label people without putting a pinch of ink on their skin.
You remind everyone of the fear and trauma these people feel on a daily basis.
I know you wish you were used for good, but you are used as a terrible memory for too many innocent souls.
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