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.