The Camp is Cold

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.

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