The child who wrote this did so on the day that she was sent to the gas chamber in 1944


blossom treeA child wrote this while in the Terezin Concentration Camp on the outskirts of Prague the day that he/she was sent to the gas chamber. I cried for that child that no one had been able to save. I wondered for the hundredth time how we could save our David …  and if a child in a concentration camp had been able to remain optimistic until the end, how dare I give up?

 On a purple sun-shot evening

under the wide-flowering chestnut trees

upon the threshold of

yesterday, today, the days are all like these.

Trees flower forth in beauty

Lovely too their very wood all gnarled and old

That I am half-afraid to peer

into their crowns of green and gold.

The sun has made a veil of gold

so lovely that my body aches.

Above, the heavens shriek of blue

convinced I’ve smiled by mistake.

The world’s abloom and seems to smile

I want to fly, but where, how high?

If in barbed wire things can bloom

Why can’t I? I will not die!

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