A boy of twelve with eyes so wide,
In Auschwitz where his fate was sealed.
His heart once bright, now shadows bear,
A quiet whisper of despair,
Yet dreams within could not be stilled,
His spirit bound but still defied.
He played in streets of cobbled stone,
Where laughter filled the evening air.
With family close and faith held dear,
The world outside held little fear,
Before the storm that none could bear—
Before the winds had turned to bone.
The soldiers came with boots of steel,
Tearing apart the peaceful day.
They took his mother, father, too,
No tears were left for him to view,
He only wished to run away,
But fate had bound him to this wheel.
On trains of rust and death he rode,
A number branded on his skin.
Yet in his mind he still could see,
A world where he was proud and free,
A world where wars could never win,
A heart with hope, though none bestowed.
In Auschwitz gates where shadows crept,
They tried to steal his very name.
But David, he would not forget,
For in his chest a fire was set,
A burning soul they could not claim—
Within the cold, his spirit leapt.
The nights were dark, the hunger fierce,
Yet in the gloom he held a dream.
He whispered prayers to skies unseen,
Where light of heaven still did gleam,
Though whispers turned to silent scream,
His faith remained, though life was pierced.
He found in friends a fleeting spark,
A moment shared in wordless glance.
They played a game, though none would win,
With bones too weak and paper skin,
Yet still they danced, as if by chance—
A fleeting joy within the dark.
He missed the warmth of Friday’s light,
The candles glowing in the night.
His mother’s hands upon his brow,
Her whispered blessings lost for now,
Yet in his heart they shone so bright,
A guiding star within his sight.
Each day grew longer than the last,
The frost cut deeper, cruel and slow.
But David held a secret close,
A song he hummed when hope seemed lost,
A tune from home, soft and low—
A thread that tied him to the past.
The barracks walls could not contain,
The child he was, nor who he’d be.
He dreamed of books and fields to roam,
A life rebuilt, a different home,
Where laughter bloomed eternally,
And joy replaced the endless pain.
The numbers fell, the days grew dim,
A march that led to death’s cruel gate.
But David, in his final breath,
Could still defy the grasp of death,
For hope was stronger than their hate—
The light of faith would not grow grim.
Though David fell, the stars still shone,
Above the fields where he was lost.
His name was carved in history,
A boy who dreamed of being free,
And though his life was tempest-tossed,
The song he sang lives on and on.
The wind that blows through Auschwitz now,
It carries whispers, soft and still.
A voice of courage, young and bold,
That rises even as the cold,
Reminds the world of David’s will,
Of how he stood, though bent by vow.
No grave was made, no stone was laid,
To mark the place where David sleeps.
But in the hearts of those who know,
His spirit’s light continues so,
A torch that burns though darkness creeps,
A soul in peace, though world betrayed.
The years will pass, the world will turn,
And history may blur the page.
But David’s song will still be sung,
In every heart where dreams are young,
A whisper through the winds of age—
A flame that even death can’t burn.
Though innocence was torn away,
And childhood lost within the flame,
A brighter story still was spun,
For David’s fight was never done,
A star upon the Book of Names,
A name the world will not betray.
Remember him, the boy so small,
Who faced the night and did not fall.
He lived within a shadowed place,
But kept the light upon his face,
And even now, his voice calls all,
To stand with courage, proud and tall.
Though years may wear his name away,
And stories fade like winter’s breath,
The truth remains of David’s stand,
A child with courage in his hand,
Who faced the very jaws of death,
But would not let his spirit sway.
For every boy and every girl,
Whose lives were caught within the storm,
Their stories rise on winds once still,
Their voices echo louder still,
A song of love that won’t conform,
A banner lifted through the whirl.
So when the stars seem far and cold,
And shadows stretch across the sky,
Remember David’s quiet song,
The boy who suffered, but stood strong,
And though he fell, his dreams still fly,
A light within the dark, untold.
His prayer, a whisper on the wind,
A voice that never knew defeat.
And though the world may turn away,
His memory will always stay,
A testament, so pure and sweet—
The strength of dreams that cannot bend.
In Auschwitz, where the silence grows,
His song still echoes through the air.
For David, though his body fell,
Lives on within the hearts that tell,
His story with a mournful care—
A boy whose light forever glows.
The world may change, but not the past,
The scars of Auschwitz carved in stone.
Yet through the pain and endless cries,
A boy with dreams refused to die,
And in his courage, seeds were sown—
A light of hope that still will last.