''' Holocaust ''' Poem by Frank James Ryan Jr...fjr

They all stood still, juxtaposed,
sore exhausted from the hate;
some had lost their Religion,
wondering how their Mighty God
could observe such anathema,
with His Angels, His Saints,
and not interface with Abaddon,
and abrogate the carnage,
render mercy to innocence.
Still, the persecuted faithful
wore their Judgement Day best
upon their hearts, for themselves
and for the souls that were taken
as their number had been called,
and no longer stood along beside them.

'No pyrrhic badge this be'!
[לא יהיה זה התג פירוס]
cried one Jew, in his native tongue,
ankles bruised, shins raw
from steel leg-iron shackles,
his final words, historic echoes of '41,
through the thick, flesh-smoked air
of a chared, rainsoaked night,
of a sad movement soon to feel
the wrath of a sad, angry God.......,
administering justice
in the form of damnation....forever.

And, Lord, how the blackhearts
suffered in spite of their mortal
strength, that cold, wet night
many dying as they killed;
For God, the Father of all Faiths
Will ne'er forsake His children.


FjR-MMXV