A Mind Infinite

Infinity: The Views of a Dreamer

Temple of Death

Click clack along the corridor boots stamp down leaving a horrifying echo,
In the corner of a dimly lit storefront a weeping mother cradles her child
Click clack the sound draws near, louder than the roar of thunder
Screams are deafened by the sudden flashes rising from gun muzzles,
sending screaming bullets to steal life
For a moment there is a brief silence,
The woman cradling in her arm her child comforts him telling him that the soldiers have gone
Crashing; the thick wooden door is torn apart by the brute force of the boots which clicked and clacked

Rain drops pour endlessly from the dark cloudy Polish sky into the interior of the dimly lit storefront,
Harsh German accents fill the room with sinister glares and laughing as the mother,
attempts to hold onto her precious child for dear life
Shrieking to the sky for God’s protection in desperate hope that he may strike down with vengeance and fury,
onto those who have trespassed into a land which was once of milk and honey, the home of farmers and villagers
Click clack the brutish men force the mother to hold her child and kneel against the wall,
Clutching her Star of David once more she begs of God to intervene and bring an end to to the coming horror
Loud cracks come from the long rifles which know not of compassion and mercy, scratching lead into the mother and her angelic-like child
Clicking and clacking the wet boots disappear along with their wearers traversing the corridor once more

Clutched firmly the mother’s cold lifeless hands — the Star of David drenched in blood,
in memoriam of the unspeakable act.
Cursed by their very ethnicity to be sacrificed as just another statistic by the fascist war machine.
Forever more, the dimly lit Polish storefront shall be their temple of death

Image

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This entry was posted on November 15, 2013 by in Poetry and tagged , , .

Aaron

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