The holocaust poem...

A time of war mid century,

Hell brought to earth by Germany.

World War II raged throughout Europe,

Millions lost their lives, millions more lost hope.

For the Jewish people a generation lost

in the fires and flames of the holocaust.

Six million died by fire and gas

in unmarked graves, buried en masse

to cleanse the land of their foul disgrace

and fill Germany with the Aryan race.

“They're not human!” Hitler would exclaim,

not able to see the monster he became.

Stories abound of pain and how

murders were carried out from Auschwitz to Dachau.

Though no people have suffered so much before or since,

no people have either showed so much resilience.

So we don't forget though so many years have gone,

here is the story of Pawell and Yvonne.

In New York City in '93

on a summers day as clear as could be,

walking through central park you could find

Yvonne taking a walk trying to clear her mind.

Why it happened she couldn't say,

but her past came flooding back on this day.

Having a seat still in her trance

she sat next to a man who by chance

was lost in his own mind strong and fast,

living out the memories of his past.

Two strangers sat close, neither one could see

their lives were bound together by history.

All through the night Yvonne couldn't sleep

and the shadows of the past caused her to weep.

No stranger to pain, or cause for fears,

Pawell woke up to the sound of her tears.

He said ma'am I couldn't help but see

the sadness in your eyes could you use some company?

She said to bug a stranger isn't what I had planned,

there's nothing you can do. You won't understand.

Pawell said I was almost on my way,

but if I can be of help I'll gladly stay.

Suffering alone is no way to be,

and you won't find one better versed in misery.

Whatever it is that troubles you so

I've probably seen worse. You should know

for everything you tell, I'll tell you something about me

so let's sit and talk in the shade of this old tree.

Yvonne wiped her eyes and took a breath,

pushing back the shadows of fear and death.

So many years had passed since she left that land,

the thoughts of what had happened put a tremble in her hand.

She said I'll sit and tell you but you'll soon regret,

you have never heard of troubles like mine yet.

Living in France back before the war,

no one could have guessed what life had in store.

Citizens of France but Jewish still,

forced to flee our home against our will.

Father went to fight, grandma was sick.

I hid in a convent and became catholic.

When all was said and done we were reunited,

though my father's will was broken, mothers spirited quieted.

We went home to Paris but our home was occupied

so we crossed the Atlantic ocean to the other side.

These things all came back to me so I was distraught,

now as you see you've not known worse no matter what you thought.

Pawell is slow to anger but a chord was struck!

He said “Lady next to me you have been blessed with luck!”

You speak of pain and sadness but you will see,

compared to my life you were bathed in luxury.

Born and raised a REAL Jew that everybody mocks,

unlike your converted ass I remained orthodox.

I watched the German army coming down the roads.

They captured my birthplace in Poland, Lödz.

Surrounded with disgrace and discrimination

while you vacationed in France I suffered humiliation.

While you were forgetting what being Jewish means

I fed my family by fixing sewing machines.

This is not all, as the Good Lord knows,

my bar mitzvah cake was coffee and potatoes.

Your life was not so bad as you reported.

To this old Yvonne hotly retorted:

You've had it hard I won't deny,

but you didn't have it half as bad as I.

My father was a prisoner but escaped one day,

and came back to me and my sister Renée.

Our family back together living in Grenade-sur-Garronne

waiting till the day that the war was won.

Then without warning the Nazis came,

took my mother and with my father the same.

To reunite my family then break them up again

when it comes to counting losses you just won't win.

In wild disbelief says Pawell

I wish my life had gone so well.

In 1944 I moved to Auschwitz

while you lived easy in relative glitz.

Twice reunited with your parents you said,

I won't see mine 'til I'm cold and dead.

You talk of hardship living in a convent,

to the working side of prison camp is where I went.

To an outsider you and I may seem the same

but while you may have felt the heat I survived the flame.

I understand your hardships but you should rejoice

that is all you suffered. Then with a shaky voice,

now it's time to leave you in my pain.

I hope we never have the chance to meet again!

How can two that have suffered so much

find hate for each other and use pain as a crutch?

Suffered though they did through the Shoah,

they had no sympathy for each other or a

sense of a connection, or of pity,

for the journey each took in life to reach this city.

What can this story tell of the human condition,

but that we all see life from our own position.

Who was right and who was wrong I cannot say,

when the two came together on this summer day.