I remember when i sat on my parents’ king sized bed,
Writing down the details my father said.
Explaining the ups and overs of how the concentration camp looked,
How the barns with people were completely booked.
How they were forced into a 100 degree truck,
And from there on for 3 hours they were stuck.
He heard the whimpers and cries of fear,
He heard people drop one by one, nothing was clear.
The air was stuffy and so very cramped,
Yet it made my fathers tan face appear so damp.
When they reached the camp of hell,
They opened the doors and he suddenly was hit with the smell.
30 people were long gone around him,
Made him so sick his head felt dim.
For the next 8 months, this was his home,
Didn’t have food, showers, not even a comb.
My father saw friends escape and die,
He saw his loved ones get free when they try.
His brother went missing around that time,
He was actually shot but he did no crime!
He watched people get killed on the spot,
Their bodies baking in the sun, left to rot.
Watched people get called by last name,
Heard the screams while they were beat, it’s such a shame.
Who also suffered injuries himself,
but nobody did anything, the soldiers didn’t care for his health.
Corpses were put in mass unmarked pits,
didn’t measure for coffins, it was whatever fits.
He is a free man now and so very strong,
He forgive himself; he hadn’t done any wrong.
My father is the strongest person i know,
He knew what it was like to be at an all time low.