Wednesday, April 19, 2017

Butterfly Project

The heavens sense our burden
the threat of future downpours 
I carry on my back.
We are drunk on wine vinegar. 
The nearing storm rouses me,
it makes me want to shake the world.

We are an assembly of misery.
If our hands are bloody, 
it is from the blood of our own wounds. 
The grotesque scars 
we bear on our bodies 
testify to battles fought 
that went unrecognized. 

But the next storm will unfurl our flag 
and uproot the rotted trees! 
Then we, together with the gusting wind,
will scale Spilberk's heights, 
and stand in victory on the peaks of cliffs,
our hair blowing freely in the wind.
    This poem makes me feel sad because the child in this poem tells us what it was like in the concentration camp. During the     Holocaust Jews were put into concentration camps because they didn't look like the rest of the human population. This poem called the "The Storm " was written to tell other people on how she lived. She was forced to do hard labor,barely got to eat a decent meal, she was always getting beaten by the Germans/Nazi group. 

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