The Bystander and the Jew
I should speak up, shouldn’t I?
I see the ashes in the sky!
I smell the stench, smell the pain,
Why won’t they just run away?
They’re cold, they’re sick,
The seconds tick.
Their death is so very near,
But what can I do from out here?
They see us, I know they do!
I scream to them, “We are people just like you!”
But they walk on by as if we don’t exist
I do not know how much more I can take of this!
The meager meals, the brutal treatment,
Death has to be better than it!
But I must live to tell my tale,
Even if the bread is stale.
They march in a line,
And we just stand by.
Their eyes beg for us to help,
When they are hit, they barely yelp.
Bones protruding, arms hanging limp,
They are the Nazis pet chimps!
Their death is so very near,
But what can I do, from out here?
They pick, they choose,
We always lose.
But in my heart I feel a spark,
We may be lifted from this dark.
Maybe not now, maybe not soon,
But here I am, under the moon.
Saying I must live to tell my tale,
Even if the bread is stale.
The barbed wire tells us to stay out,
The Jews inside run about.
The watch towers tell them to stay in and work.
The barracks laugh as they walk by.
Are we being told a lie?
Their death is so very near,
But what can I do from out here?
Walk in line, do what you’re told.
Never complain, even if you’re cold.
Wash those dishes! Dig those holes!
Raise the flag up on the pole!
We always do what they say,
So we can live to see another day.
I will live to tell my tale,
Even though the bread is stale.
A black snow falls from the sky.
Women cry.
Jews have died.
Hitler lied.
We must try,
To end this crime.
Their death is so very near,
But what can I do from out here?
We are beaten,
We are shot.
You might think we’re evil,
But we are not.
We are people just like you,
We are people, yes it’s true.
I must live to tell my tale,
Even if the bread is stale.
I watch them move inside the gate,
Bruised, bony, bare arms, mouths agape.
They move so slow,
Like camels in the snow.
I hear their stomachs grumble,
Watch their spirits crumble.
Their death is so very near,
But what can I do from out here?
I take the bread and eat it up,
The watery soup is like water from a cup.
I dream of flowing rivers, and tables full of food.
But all I see is this Nazi brood.
I do not cry anymore, there is no use!
There is no way of breaking loose.
But I must live to tell my tale,
Even if the bread is stale.
Striped pajamas falling off,
Big muscles going soft,
Long hair, shaved down to the bone,
Social people now all alone.
I yearn to help them, make everything alright,
But why risk getting caught by the search light?
Their death is so very near,
But what can I do from out here?
I did not hear the wake up call,
I was curled up in a ball.
Being chosen is not so bad I say.
At least I do not have to suffer day to day.
I walk in line, strip down to nothing,
Look around, watch people dying.
I will not live to tell my tale,
And yes, that bread was stale.
