Even the trees are silent
They do not wish to admit
That which they have seen
The birds chirp, unknowingly
The trees know, they remember
And now they stand, drawn inward
Upon themselves
As if shivering away from this place of horrors
The branches do not grow out, they grow in
And up, as if to flee that which
That which the trees cannot believe
Had happened in their youth
Perhaps the trees point the way
The road to freedom, the only one not
Closed off by barbed wire fences
That of upwards, to the sky
Not via the crematorium
For not all things human burn
But rather that flight of souls
To eternal rest, salvation and hope
Where forever they will be free of tyranny and horror
And their sufferings and sacrifices, their blood
will have been redemptive, in so much as they bore it
as best as they could, on earth
never losing their soul, even through their bodies
were wasted away
starved, locked up in rooms
one meter square, with three others
yet never did these brave souls compromise
never did they give in to evil
diligently they squared their souls
and fought, silently, uncompromising with tyranny
silently continuing their song
even as megaphones blared news
of fresh military victories of their earthy enemies
but they, redeemed, know which side wins in the end
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