Holocaust—A Solemn Cry

“In shadows deep where nightmares dwell,
A chapter etched in history’s spell.
Holocaust, your bitter tale,
Of anguish, loss, and skies so pale.

From ghettos choked with sorrow’s breath,
To camps where darkness met with death,
The human spirit, tested, tried,
Yet hope, a flicker, never died.

In ashes rose a solemn vow,
To never forget, to honor how
The brave souls fought, the martyrs bled,
Their legacy, a light ahead.

Though time may blur the lines of pain,
Their stories echo, clear, remain.
For in their memory, we find
The strength to heal, the will to bind.

Holocaust, a solemn cry,
A testament to those who lie
In fields of silence, never rest,
Their voices echo, we attest.

So let us stand, and let us vow,
To keep alive their sacred now.
In remembrance, let us strive
For peace, for justice, to revive.”

The photograph adorning the beginning of the blog captures a poignant moment in the life of Herman David Santcroos. He was born in Amsterdam on 10 June 1943, and tragically passed away in Meerlo, the Netherlands, on 19 October 1944, just reaching the age of one.

Under the care of Mr. and Mrs. Nabben, he was one of the Jewish foster children during a tumultuous period in history. Herman’s mother, a survivor of the Holocaust, endured unspeakable suffering, only to return from Auschwitz in search of her beloved child. Her heart-wrenching anguish persisted as she learned of her son’s passing, and the anguish of the Holocaust haunted her every waking moment. Each new day began without her precious son by her side, a reminder that for her, the scars of the Holocaust would never truly heal. Every breath was a testament to the enduring pain and loss that no passage of time could ever erase.

“Where horrors scarred both heart and hand,
Amidst the shadows, dark and deep,
A fragile bloom dared rise from sleep.

In soil stained with tears of pain,
Where memories of loss remain,
A flower bloomed, a symbol bright,
Defiant ‘gainst the endless night.

Its petals, soft, a whispering grace,
A tender touch in desolate space,
A beacon of hope, though frail it seemed,
In a landscape haunted, where nightmares teemed.

With each petal unfurled, a silent plea,
For remembrance, for humanity,
To never forget the lives once lost,
Nor the innocence at such a cost.

For in that flower, Auschwitz’s bloom,
Lies a story of resilience in gloom,
A testament to the human will,
To endure, to survive, against all ill.

So let us cherish this Auschwitz flower,
A symbol of hope, of strength, of power,
And vow to keep its memory bright,
In the darkest of days, in the blackest of night.”

Sources

https://beeldbankwo2.nl/nl/beelden/detail/6c955bc6-025a-11e7-904b-d89d6717b464/media/f6810113-e566-bb19-b840-b2f4286a2cb0?mode=detail&view=horizontal&q=Holocaust&rows=1&page=14

https://www.joodsmonument.nl/en/page/181236/herman-david-santcroos

A Sparrow in Auschwitz

In Auschwitz, where shadows fall like heavy stones,
And darkness reigns in the heart of despair,
Amidst the echoes of silent groans,
A solitary sparrow dared to share.

Through barbed wire and sorrow, it flew,
A fragile beacon of hope untamed,
Its wings of freedom, a whispered clue,
In a world where humanity was maimed.

In the midst of anguish, it found a song,
A melody of resilience, pure and clear,
A flutter of wings against all that’s wrong,
A symbol of life in the face of fear.

In the bleakness of Auschwitz’s embrace,
The sparrow danced with the dawn’s first light,
A fleeting moment of beauty and grace,
A symbol of defiance against the night.

Though tyranny sought to crush its flight,
The sparrow soared on wings of grace,
A testament to the power of light,
In the darkest corners of this place.

For even in Auschwitz’s depths of woe,
Where cruelty ruled with an iron hand,
The sparrow’s spirit refused to bow,
A symbol of hope in a desolate land.

So let us remember the sparrow’s flight,
In the shadows of Auschwitz’s sorrow,
A symbol of courage, burning bright,
In the darkest night, a ray of tomorrow.

Amongst the Poplar Trees—A Dachau Poem

Last year in June, I had the chance to visit Dachau, for lack of a better word, it was the highlight of my year. Strangely enough, it inspired me—in a creative way.

In shadows cast by history’s hand,
Where sorrow’s echo still commands,
Lies a place where darkness roams,
A haunting tale of Dachau’s home.

Amongst the polar trees, a silent vow,
Whispers of souls in silence now,
Where barbed wire weaves its somber tale,
And cries of anguish still prevail.

In Dachau’s fields, where freedom fell,
A solemn hymn, a tolling bell,
Where names are etched on walls of stone,
Each one is a story, each one alone.

The winds that sweep through rusted wire,
Carry echoes of a world on fire,
Of faces etched with silent screams,
Lost within a torment’s seams.

Yet in this place of deepest pain,
Springs forth a hope, a gentle strain,
For memory’s flame can never die,
Though shadows loom, it still can fly.

So let us honor those who fell,
Their stories are whispered, we retell,
In Dachau’s solemn, hallowed ground,
Where peace and memory are found.

Feb.15, the day after Valentine’s (a poem for sorry lovers)

February Fifteen, Valentine’s has come and gone. I wonder what have I done?
No flowers were bought, no cards were sought. Not a single word written down. You must think me a clown.
Roses may be red, and Violets may be blue, but I must look like a right Tulip to you.
How difficult could it be? The date is the same every year, you see.
Couldst thou forgiveth this blight, William Shakespeare might write.
But I am no bard. However, despite my forgetfulness, for you, there is always a place in my heart.
Make it up to you I will. Or your servant I’ll be better still.
But a servant is not what you are looking for. Just simply someone to open your door.
Although I am a day late, be my Valentine. Take this humble offer, please do not decline.

Fringe Christmas Tunes—Episode 1: All About Eve—December

With fringe Christmas songs I mean songs which are not Christmas songs per se, but more Christmas-sy than for example Frankie Goes to Hollywood’s—”Power of Love.”

The first one is by All About Eve-“December,” the song comes from their second album “Scarlet and Other Stories,” released in 1989.

“There’s a Victorian tin, I keep my memories in
I found it up in the attic
After looking inside, I find the things that I’m hiding…
The leaves saved from a mistletoe kiss
Only nostalgia has me feeling like this…
Like I miss you
It must be the time of year

Remember December
It’s like a wintergreen beside a diamond stream
Remember December
A fall of snow and the afterglow
It could be taking our breath away
But the years stand in the way
Remember December
How does it make you feel inside?

Beneath a Valentine, I see a locket is shining
I think it must be the wine
Makes me feel it’s all real
Where nothing seems to rhyme
To breathe life into the dust of a keepsake
I might as well try to fix a chain on a snowflake
Or a heartache
It must be the time of year

Remember December
It’s like a wintergreen beside a diamond stream
Remember December
A fall of snow and the afterglow
It could be taking our breath away
But the years stand in the way
Remember December
How does it make you feel inside?

Should I feel this alone, should I pick up the phone
Should I call you up and wish you ‘Happy Christmas’?
I feel so alone, should I pick up the phone
Take my heart in my hand
And ask if you remember December
It’s like a wintergreen beside a diamond stream
Remember December
A fall of snow and the afterglow
It could be taking our breath away
But the years stand in the way
Remember December
How does it make you feel inside?”

sources

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scarlet_and_Other_Stories

https://genius.com/All-about-eve-december-lyrics

I Wish! A Poem for the Grieving

I wish I kept that last Birthday card

I wish I could undelete that last voicemail

I wish I hadn’t thrown away that last Christmas card

I wish I saved and hadn’t deleted that final WhatsApp message

I wish I could tell you one more time how much you mean to me

I wish to hear you laugh one last time

I wish I could tell you I love you because I haven’t said that enough

I wish to hear one final insult like only a friend can do

I wish to insult you because you understand that I don’t mean it

I wish you peace

I wish the memories will remain

I wish words could wipe away the pain

I wish, I wish.

They Came First…

Martin Niemöller was a German theologian and Lutheran pastor. He is best known for his opposition to the Nazi regime during the late 1930s and for his widely quoted 1946 poem “First they came…”

Although he was an opponent of the Nazi regime. In the 1920s and early 1930s, he sympathized with many Nazi ideas and supported radically right-wing political movements. But after Adolf Hitler came to power in 1933, Niemöller became an outspoken critic of Hitler’s interference in the Protestant Church. He spent the last eight years of Nazi rule, from 1937 to 1945, in Nazi prisons and concentration camps.

This is the poem he wrote, its words are still relevant now.

First they came for the Communists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Communist

Then they came for the Socialists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Socialist

Then they came for the trade unionists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a trade unionist

Then they came for the Jews
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Jew

Then they came for me
And there was no one left
To speak out for me

source

https://encyclopedia.ushmm.org/content/en/article/martin-niemoeller-first-they-came-for-the-socialists

My phonebook is thinning out- A poem of grief and consolation.

My phonebook is thinning out, not by design but by fate.
The numbers are still there yet calling them is meaningless, for there will be no answer.
You would give anything just to hear that voice one more time.
Sometimes you feel like just giving up, but you know it is disrespectful to those who never gave up and lived a full life.
Then you hear a story of a 10-year-old boy whose death could have been avoided, and in a bizarre way it gives you consolation.
Because you know that those you said goodbye to those weren’t robbed of their prime, and although their life was cut short they still had a life more fruitful than that of many who lived longer.