(The following poem is based on Elie Weisel’s book Night)

 

The Greatest Escape


A number tattooed upon the arms of thousands.

No longer individuals.

But one soul living in the corrupt hands of doom.

The SS ordered the ranks to form up.

An endless road.

Letting oneself be dragged along by destiny.

Nothing but ashes had I become.

The idea of dying began to fascinate me.

Of no longer being.

Of ceasing to exist.

A spurt of red flame. A shot is all it would take.

A single shot. Just one.

Falling to your fate.

Entwined in a blanket of fresh snow.

Thick, fluffy snow that keeps one warm at night.

And asleep forever.

Forget the past.

And the present.

And the future.

Never again shall anyone know the pain.

The acts of terror committed against.

Once inside the greatest escape.

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