Towards the end of your life, it’s hard to look back.
It’s hard to remember everything, you start losing track.
First I was born, in 1939, looking at my mother’s big grin.
I hadn’t done anything then, not a single sin.
Next came pre school, and I definitely put on a big show,
I held onto my dad’s hand, never wanting to let go.
Fast forward to kindergarten, I felt oh-so brave,
That’s a memory I forever want to save.
Then came my first year of middle school,
I remember feeling so calm and cool,
Then came eight grade, I had grown so tall,
I had great friends by then, ones who catch me when I fall.
Skip a few years and everything is changing, so rapidly and fast.
Us Jews are no longer allowed to live in peace, there are no borders we are allowed to pass.
I am afraid, but like me, all children are being told not to worry by their fathers and their mothers.
Until one day, I am sent to the camps, along with my family, and countless others.
There I see horrors I thought unimaginable, sights that will forever stay in my mind.
I see my mother become sicker and sicker, my father who I was never again able to find.
And when it is all over, and I can finally say “I survived,”
I am filled with guilt for those, like my parents, who did not make it out to the other side.
But then, in an unlikely event, I meet an American soldier who liberated us with soft eyes and a smile.
He helped pull me out of my misery, although I was scarred, and it took a long while.
Soon after I met my husband, the kindest man on earth,
We wanted a family, so soon after that I gave birth.
I did not tell my children my past for many years to come.
But as they grew they began to question why they never met their grandparents who I came from.
So as they grew, I told them more,
about my times in Auschwitz, and my husband’s fighting in the war.
It was hard to talk about, but in the end, it felt good.
I told them they would never have to experience what I did, and no one ever should.
When I turned 50, I was a little sad,
But I was in a happy place, for that I was glad.
Turning 75, my kids are big and strong,
They have families now, and have a place to belong.
No matter where they are, I know they will remember me, and the stories that I shared.
I hope that they will continue to tell their children and those who come next, so that the horrific events of the Holocaust do not go undeclared.
After that, I can’t say I remember much more,
I’ve grown very sick, and I don’t think there’s a cure.
But when people pass me by, they just see some woman whose old.
I just wish for once, my story could be told.
I’m not asking for a whole big show,
I just want someone to know,
It’s about how you got there, not where you are,
There were many bumps in the road, but you traveled so far.
So perhaps I’ve seen my last sun and moon,
And maybe the end for me is very soon.
I’m not asking for much, I don’t want fame or glory,
I’d just like a few people to know who I am, and to hear my story.