She had not a name
Though she used to.
Her name was taken away,
The purpose—to dehumanize—
Because she was a Jew.
When she begged for her mother,
The guards just laughed.
Pointing to the crematory,
Said, “Your mother is NOW ash.”
Wanting to cry,
Yet the tears would not flow.
She was alone in this world.
IF she survived, where would she go?
The hunger she felt
Was an indescribable pain.
In the pit of one’s stomach,
Even a crumb was fair game.
The constant crying,
The gnashing of teeth,
The rotting of bodies
Always at her feet.
When liberation came,
She was at death’s door,
Weighing only 80 pounds.
They found her on the floor.
An American soldier
Wrapped her in his arms.
She noticed a tear in his eye,
And #27328 became alarmed.
Not seeing empathy in years and years,
#27328 couldn’t help but cry a tear.
And when this American soldier asked her name,
“Helga” she said. She became human again.

Author’s Note: The #27328 is a fictional number I made up. This is a poem that was written by me and has no resemblance to any person living or dead. It is a representation of the horror of the Holocaust.