Eighty Years of Memor

 

Eighty years have passed, yet still
the echoes rise, the silence chills.
Through gates of iron, pain and loss
a shadowed world, a heavy cross.
Barbed wire coiled like serpent’s breath
held dreams and hope in hands of death.
Numbers inked upon the skin
souls erased, yet not within.
Through winter’s frost and bitter cries
a dawn arose in ashen skies.
With boots that marched, the doors swung wide
yet ghosts remained, they stood inside.
Auschwitz—name of sorrow’s deep
where millions walked, yet none could weep.
For tears were stolen, breath was chained
yet faith, though battered, still remained.
Today we stand, we vow, we swear
to guard the truth, to be aware.
To speak their names, to light a flame
to shield the world from hate and shame.
No more shall darkness steal the light
no more shall fear erase the right.
The past has spoken—hear its call:
never again—for one, for all.