I Am A Child of The Holocaust
I am from the house in my small village,
from booming propaganda and posters.
I am from the small cottage that smells like fresh bread.
I am from the trees of the forest,
the smell of rain in the air.
I am from the weddings and big smiles,
from my mother and my father and my grandmother.
I am from the twiddling of fingers and the whistling of old tunes.
From not running into the Nazis,
who are like hungry bears,
and to always pray before dinner.
I am from Jews, the passovers with my family and the hiding of the bread.
I am from Poland,
bread and cheese filling me up.
From the day the Nazis stormed in and scooped our family up,
the crying of my brother,
and the silence of my parents.
I am from the old oak cabinet,
filled with pictures of the family that the Nazis could not find,
and the Star of David,
reminding me of the hope I once had.
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I wrote this poem for school, since we're putting on a play about the Holocaust, and our poems are going to be displayed as part of the play. Please comment! I worked very hard on this.
