I see them walking into the ghetto
They always look forward, toward the horror that will soon become their lives
I want to tell them to look back, to see the beautiful world one last time
They will never see another tree sprouting strong and sturdy from the ground again
They will never feel the wind caress their hair and cool their bodies again
They will never hear the sparrow cry out as he soars through the skies again
They will never taste the crispness of the air in the valley again
They will never touch the comforting, soft earth again
Yet they don’t look back
They don’t take one last time to breathe in the senses of life
I know they will regret it
I know because I didn’t look back