The Camp is Cold
It's cold in this camp.
There is no heat.
The gruel is cold.
The bread is cold and black.
My life is cold.
Too cold to live.
by Marc
The Holocaust
Weak and pale, we live each day,
No hope left in our eyes;
God cannot hear the psalms we pray,
Drowned out by anguished cries.
We live in filth and constant fear,
Of illogical reprise;
Each dawn brings cold death more near,
The sunlight in disguise.
What have I done to earn this strife,
My crime . . . to be a Jew;
I'm subject to their sordid life,
The madness of a few.
So many gone and more to die,
The future seems so bleak;
Amid the suffering throng I lie,
An end to this we seek.
Yet when the sands have all but run,
When all have lost their will;
Our hearts will rise in unison,
We are stronger still.
by Madison
This is a continuation of the writings my 7th grade students did after we studied The Holocaust.
Marc helped us to see the starkness of these death camps. Madison gave us new hope for the future amidst a hopeless backdrop.
It's cold in this camp.
There is no heat.
The gruel is cold.
The bread is cold and black.
My life is cold.
Too cold to live.
by Marc
The Holocaust
Weak and pale, we live each day,
No hope left in our eyes;
God cannot hear the psalms we pray,
Drowned out by anguished cries.
We live in filth and constant fear,
Of illogical reprise;
Each dawn brings cold death more near,
The sunlight in disguise.
What have I done to earn this strife,
My crime . . . to be a Jew;
I'm subject to their sordid life,
The madness of a few.
So many gone and more to die,
The future seems so bleak;
Amid the suffering throng I lie,
An end to this we seek.
Yet when the sands have all but run,
When all have lost their will;
Our hearts will rise in unison,
We are stronger still.
by Madison
This is a continuation of the writings my 7th grade students did after we studied The Holocaust.
Marc helped us to see the starkness of these death camps. Madison gave us new hope for the future amidst a hopeless backdrop.
