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36 · Feb 11
The Lost - an Elegy
Lily Fearby Feb 11
Beneath the shadowed skies of frost,
stone walls whisper of the lost.
We walk – each step heavy and slow,
and time stands still with candle glow.

The land is changed by structures kept,
where countless souls in silence wept.
Images of those they blamed,
give to us reminders framed.

Here the chimneys, alone and worn,
remind us of those gone we mourn.
O the air, filled with grief,
of those lost for their belief.

The name itself embossed
with dreams cut short, voices lost.
And although the smoke has cleared,
those taken shall never disappear.

In Auschwitz, where time stands still,
echoes remind us of their will.
And though the years so quickly go,
We must ensure that still we know

That love must rise and hate shall fall,
a message we must all recall.
Inspired by visit to Auschwitz

— The End —