Scattered six-pointed stars
Glinting across a scarred
Night sky
You can’t count them because
There are too many
Too many lives lost
Too many people tossed
Away as quickly as
Leaves by the wind
This poem is for
All the emaciated people who stare out across the camps
With smoke rising up into the night sky
Being carried away by the wind
To villages where people knew of the slaughter
But wouldn’t speak against it
This poem is for
The neighbors who carried six-pointed stars
While being marched into the woods
Carrying their teddy bears and blankets
Knowing that every hole was a graveyard
Of stories untold
This poem is for
The children subject to the euthanasia programs
Like the unsuspecting sun,
About to be overtaken by dark clouds
For all those deemed unfit to live
For those who survived
And have to carry this heavy burden like a chain
Clasping them to all the memories
That no one should have to know
For those who
Were forced to do hours and hours of tireless labor
And were hauled into the chambers, vanishing like smoke in mere seconds
Then burned like logs in a fire
Their memories,
A light in the night sky
Filled with six-pointed stars
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