Beyond the Barbed Wire.

There was always some phenomenon
Beyond the barbed wire;
A different world;
A life seemly ages ago

Spent out there,
Now all seemed unreal,
The reality of here and now;
The wire, the gun turrets,

The dogs, the deaths
And the smell of death
Engaged all thoughts
And sense of being.

There was always a hope,
At least with some,
That some redeemer’d come,
Somehow, some way,

Although the daily grind
Of death and dark
And near starvation,
Made that a mad conception

Entertained against
Those finer senses
Which gave out doubt.
There was always that smell

Of burning flesh;
Ashes in the air;
A sense of loss;
The hell of Auschwitz

And an alienation
From the world now lost,
Which many discovered
To there deadly cost;

But you survived,
Amongst the few,
Few at least in number
To those now dead;

Too many to number on fingers
Or in your fragile head.