The Gate

I walk through the Gate
and the fear creeps through my body
The fear chills me to the temperature of the cool rain
that falls on these beaten paths.
My mind flashes with the pictures
of the thousands whose feet wore the paths
with their endless marching.

Their faces still haunt the empty rooms
where they were once crowded.
Objects stand as a reminder of their pain.
Hair
Shoes
Pots
Glasses
all piled in unending collections

They, too, were afraid
but also unknowing.
They hoped that the promises on the gate
would be fulfilled.
I know that they were not
I know that they suffered
I know that their fates had already been decided
I Know that
Work did not make them free

I want to go back and save them or warn them
but it is too late.
All I can offer are my tears
for their graves

After all, I can walk back through the Gate;
They could not.

Meredith Halpin
(Student Participant on a Trip to
Auschwitz-Birkenau in 1999)

Images by David Lebensfeld

Violence by David Lebensfeld

By David Lebensfeld