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Death March
By Sonia Schreiber Weitz
A night… A storm…
Our blood still warm,
Soaking into the snow.
Our bodies recoil
Upon frozen soil,
Oblivious to the flow
Of pain, that whips.
Our lifeless lips
Belie this final hell.
At the break of dawn
We barely moan
A silent: “Sh’mah -
From Plaszow, my sister Blanca and I were sent to Auschwitz, perhaps the most notorious
of all the death-
From Auschwitz, we were forced on the now legendary ‘death march’.
