Poem -

BEING A JEW IN 1942

Three men in uniform were having a smoke
Pulled and prodded me until I awoke
Bundled outdoors into a crowded waiting truck
Nothing I could do would change my bad luck

I heard the truck stop outside a well lit gate
Myself and others waited for our impending fate
Soon I was quickly taken to who knows where 
The three men in uniform didn't bother or care

This was a typical night in the year of 1942
The only crime was being born a Jew
A man in a moustache despised my race
A sick individual with an ugly looking face

Three long years and it was finally 1945
Don't know how but thank God I was still alive
The memories though remain to this day 
Panic attacks and nightmares keep sleep at bay

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Comments

author
The fish of the sea

This puts my recent Anzac poem to shame... amazing tribute. It's hard to comprehend the artroisites of the time... such a reality that we have gone through... it gives me shivers just to believe people went through that gruesome and bleak period of time. Again love you work. The Fish of the Sea

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author
Yiyan Han

This makes the history of WWII a living one. In this very year 2020, we're all Jews in WWIII, the invisible war.

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