No Hope

August 3, 2008
By Kristen Pearson, Nazareth, PA

From the barnyard hall,
I hear the call of the dove.
No hope, it cries, no hope.

As we march to the train,
I read the words on a man’s lips.
No hope, he says, no hope.

Sitting on the train,
I hear the wails of a baby.
No hope, it wails, no hope.

Walking past the gas chambers,
I see the eyes of the Jews lined before them.
Nope hope, they say, no hope.

As I stand at the door of the chamber,
I hear the shriek of a bird.
No hope, it shrieks, no hope.

Now, as gas fills the chamber,
I know there’s no hope for me.
No hope, I whisper, no hope.

The author's comments:
This poem is dedicated to the victims of the Holocaust. May they rest in peace.

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