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Numbers
Six million sticks,
 Six million stones,
 Six million thin
 and starving bones.
 
 Two paths, no choice,
 shoved left or right,
 half not surviving
 into night.
 
 Six digits scarred
 into the skin.
 A name now lost
 to next of kin.
 
 Columns, rows,
 and lines of five,
 wasting numbers
 still alive.
 
 Four gas chambers,
 torrid screams.
 Up in smoke stacks,
 long lost dreams.
 
 One voice, desperate
 with foresight,
 last words spoken,
 "Jewish Children, Write!"
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