The gentle rocking of the boat
Lulls my dear baby girl in sweet slumbers,
the morning will bring the light I have
longed for after so many days beneath the deck
of our savior St. Louis,

The excited stirring of hundreds
of my fellow people causes her to spur
as they begin to move towards the
deck to greet our new homeland.

The fresh air is invigorating
As I step onto the water worn deck
to be greeted by the sight
of our haven,
America, I say in an allayed sigh,
as she continues to sleep swaddled in the clothes
Of refuge she will soon shed.

Papers in hand, we await our docking,
assured by nameless faces
that it will be only moments more.
I see another ship approaching,
an unknown language is written upon the
side in red but I am sure in fact it is another
gift from our great messiah.

My legs grow stiff while she dreams on,
we chug alongside our new companion
that will surely lead us to our place of rescue.

As we greet the afternoon sun
we slowly change course,
many people are shouting out in confusion,
she is awakened by the sudden shift in
direction as we begin to cross
the rough waters
I thought we’d never have to greet again.

We are heading back they tell us,
many begin to shout in protest,
exclaiming they have their papers.
But it is no matter,
we are not wanted here they tell us.

Then the shouts turn to cries,
Cries to our messiah,
Cries to the high heaven
of man’s inhumanity,
we are not wanted.

She cries into the night
as the waves crash against
the side of the boat,
sounding like a drum,
with every beat sending us closer to
The land we had left
as we become part of
The Final Solution.