My gears have not been oiled for years
They are oiled with
the dry crusty blood that encases my body
Pain is my friend
Yet it is my enemy
For everywhere I look
I see myself in reflection
Everything I touch
is me in return
Numbers
That’s who we are
Who cares about names
Names are too hard to say
Too hard to whisper
Too hard to even process in our minds
For we slowly melt away
Dig a hole in the dirt
And sleep
A long deep sleep
Yet I think
I think of the gateway to come in the future
A gateway that will free me
from my pain
I try to look at the camera
Yet light blinds my sensitive body
I crouch and bend
Light
Too much for me
For I live in darkness
And this darkness abides in me
The numbers huddle,
crouch
The man says for us to look up
And I remember that when in front of a camera
A smile should appear
Yet my face becomes distorted
Wrinkles that crease my beaten face
hang deeply engraved
Like a stone
That’s my smile
Being here
I suffocate under the blanket of stench
That arises from under the
Torn sheets
And the camera man with one click
Captures our life
A life that will be lived for years to come
And by many others later
A life that is a cycle of suffering
As it slowly chokes me
Day by day
Night by night
As I wait
and hope
To disappear
may we remember those that died and suffered during the Holocaust