Juvenile Genocide | Teen Ink

Juvenile Genocide

June 5, 2013
By sheridan.leigh SILVER, New Prague, Minnesota
sheridan.leigh SILVER, New Prague, Minnesota
5 articles 0 photos 3 comments

I don't understand,
why I have to give up my bike,
it was a birthday present,
from my long gone daddy.
Mommy says Hitler's a magician
hypnotising the Germans.
He's got somethin against us jews,
but I ain't done nothin' wrong.
But mommy he seems like a hero,
if he's a bad guy, why's everyone kneelin'?

But mommy I love Spike, he's my friend!
Mommy says march and stomp all I want,
but Spikes got to go.
I take my basket, hug Spike one last tI'me.
I try not to cry.
Mommy says I need to be a strong boy,
so I hold 'em in.
Spike's goin' to a better place,
but I know that ain't the truth.

Twisted crosses,
everywhere I go.
I ask mommy what they are,
she says, "A sign from the Devil."
I always thought stars were pretty,
once I saw all my friends and family having stars on them,
they weren't so pretty no more.

Mommy's bakery is empty.
Everyday I check if the sign says open.
And everyday it does.

I wanna go play with Tommy!
But mommy's cryin' sayin',
"No, he's of another kind."

I roll out of my squeaky dusty bed,
today's God's day.
Me, my mommy, and sissy walkin' to church.
There's a crowd?
Mommy why's there a crowd?
What happened to the church?
Why's the street so shiny?
"God's just testin' us."
I held mommy's hand tight.

It's my sixth birthday,
and all I want is to ride my bike, and play with Spike.
No bread, and not even cake like last year.
But mommy I'm hungry.
"Grab your things sweetie, no questions please."

Mommy why you cryin'?
Do ya miss daddy? That why ya cryin'?
Me, mommy, and sissy walkin' on a crowded street.
Surrounded by what mommy calls it "the Devil's Sign"
All my church goin friends are walkin' with us.
All them cryin' people, but I don't know why.

Mommy says see you soon.
I didn't want to let go,
but I trust mommy.

I don't like my new pajamas.
The stripes aren't as pretty
as my cotton navy blue.

It's like we're all family here,
no hair,
same ugly pajamas.

This man was cryin'
he hugged me and told me,
"Your father was a great man,
bless his soul."
I told hI'm I was hungry,
he handed me a piece of bread
deep inside his pocket.
He moved his finger up to his lips
'n winked at me.

I wish my mommy was here,
she smells so good,
and this place smells so bad.
I ain't bathed in five nights.
I smell bad.

A man with the twisted cross,
Satan's logo,
says it's tI'me to shower.
I am happy 'cause I smell.
It's gonna be hard to shower
with all packed so tight.

A loud boom, all goes dark.
I'm afraid of the dark too,
but I'm not screamin', cryin', and singin'
like all the others.

I spotted the bread man
he grabbed my hand.
But why so tight?
I looked up at hI'm wonderin'
"Why my daddy a good man?"
"Son, he's a loyal man,
to his family, friends, and beliefs.
He's not here today
'cause he did a good deed.
But them satans don't agree."

*******

Only as a young boy,
I could sense
that the devil was busy at work
I only ask of you one thing
to pass on my story
to the generations that roll on.

History tends to repeat itself,
no one deserves to be treated like we were.
Not even Nazis,
its purely inhumane.

The past likes to make an appearance
a little ways up the road,
I'mplant a speed bump,
and warn others
of what it could become.

As I share my story,
onto you
I cringe at the thought
of this repeating itself
as people of the world,
you have a right to make a change
pass on stories
and let the world know
no one deserves
to be stripped of their life.


The author's comments:
For an assignment in my history class, we were suppose to write an article on the holocaust. Instead of doing that, I wrote a poem. This poem is based on what I would imagine the holocaust would be like from the perspective of a 6 year old Jewish boy. This poem seemed to come so easily to me, as I wrote it very rapidly during math class. As I was reviewing my work with my history teacher, she seemed to get a little teary eyed at my poem. She said that being so vague with all the things happening during the story made it ten times more affective! This poem made the top ten finalists for all of the Holocaust essays/poems in my high school! For all the people I have witnessed read this poem they all got a little choked up, and I hope it has that much dramatic affect on you as well!

Similar Articles

JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This article has 0 comments.