In Auschwitz the air hung still.
The dragons are imaginary.
Once they had their fill.
The only gold fell from the fingers of those now perished chosen ones.
The birds crying relinquished flowers.
Lilies all dressed for death.
The classless funeral attire of the blue stripey pyjama death.
Now the camps be emptied.
Those passed inside be free.
Camp be closed.
All souls released, but still the sky hangs heavily.
May God please bless the free.
(C) Livvi