A flash of light and sleep. And a dream. A dream of what once was, and never again will be. I was twelve when the Nazis came. Thirty of them and 2,ooo of us Jews. They took us- all of us- to the ghetto. Why did we listen? Why did we go with them? We got tired. Tired of our friends looking at us like we were rats. Tired of the rain of insults coming from our neighbors and co-workers. Tired of arguing. Tired of our life. But if we knew what would happen if we went, we never let them force us there. Before the ghetto, I didnít know true cold. I didnít know hunger. There was a pattern at the ghetto. Cold, work, still cold, small bread, cold, huddle with family and/or friends, less cold, sleep. Cold. We found blankets. They were our lifeline- or so we thought. The true threat was not the cold, but monsters guarding the fence. The Nazis had increased in numbers. From thirty to 4,ooo in less than a year. Poland was not the home to me it once was.
Every now and then entire blocks would vanish. Deportation.
ďMaybe they are better where they are!Ē hoped loved ones.
But we knew, deep down, that they were far worse off.
June 7th. My Birthday. And my present? Deportation.
I am happy my parents are dead. I know that
sounds evil, but when I saw people going insane
from their losses, I knew their death was a
blessing in a black veil. At least I had time,
seven years, to learn to cope with it.
September 10th. A year and four months
have passed since I got here. While Iíve
been here in Auschwitz, Iíve fought,
injured, and even killed for scraps of
bread. Before I arrived here, I didnít know
starvation. I didnít know freezing. Iím tired
So tiredÖ.. but I must relive this memory.
Death. Death is my friend. My brother.
My life. I want Death. I wish to sleep.
But I look to the sky and see that
even in the dark, the sun still
shines. My life since the Nazis came
has been like a shadow. No light.
No anything, until the sun peers
over the horizon after an endless
night. Some have lost faith. I have
not, and will not.
Why bother? Why do you
fight for food? Food is
LIFE. Why not just
curl up and sleep?
Sleep is death. Though
Death may be my friend,
I do not wish to rejoice
with him yet. Ever since
I got into this camp, I
have not slept. My rest
is a half-sleep. Iím
anticipating the deadly
roll. I hate myself. Why?
I ask myself. Why didnít you
fight back?Why didnít you
escape when you had the chance?
I didnít know. No one did.
The Death March.
This would liberate
our souls! But I
didnít want to die.
Not yet. But He
had different plans.
Edited by LilDewd, 21 May 2009 - 01:07 PM.