Draped in a headscarf,
Off doth a girl prance to school.
Huddled between two seats,
The girl doth know she broke their rules:
A lover of her hometown valley in the shallows,
Spoke the truth,
And almost went to the gallows.
They got on the bus,
Oh, yes, they did,
Wicked and sexist;
They asked for her name,
That's all they said.
A reluctant "that's me"——
Then three shots
They deemed would be her punishment
For demanding an education.
Then, once an era ago,
In a war that determined the two ruling nations of this earthly life,
Not just one ethnicity was a victim of attempted genocide.
Many a persecuted or met with disdain
Deemed unfit for the "Aryan" race, the distinctly-shaped mustache with an
iron fist declared.
So unfit for the "Aryan" life,
Unfit for humanity, they deemed
So they decreed some as nothing more than animals.
A bleak life,
A bleak world.
Religion, ethnicity, intelligence, personality, behavior, and skin color
Decided if one lived
Or if they died.
Consigned to medical experiments;
Sent to chambers teeming in toxic gas.
None dare shed a tear for the victims until the last.
Some history forgets;
Some history glazes over;
Some history haunts,
For a life of fear,
A memoir of trauma,
Is pain of those who lost.
It seems the world has lost the light in its eyes.
Even if we try.
Thoughts of the mind bound backwards.
Too much pressure of insecurity.
It's a lesson we forget to remember:
When we all forget.
When we don't teach.
We need to think with a modern mind but see with past eyes,
For if the future is bright,
We must surge through December
And always remember.
I'm a writer.