Poets logo

A Loss of Lives and Hearts of Scorn

A poem about internment camps and concentration camps.

By Shenique Published 6 years ago 2 min read
Like
Rendered by Oxnot -- DeviantArt

Sit back, relax and reminisce with me

A time that was ours and misery

Lest we forget our harboured ways

And go back to the time that we strayed

Not that now we do no crime

Not that we ever did the time

It was then but it’s still present

That’s treating each other like lowly peasants

Waging war across the earth

These aren’t ever times of mirth

Watching bodies fall on either side

Knowing someone’s father, brother, son has died

The ever-present hum that death energy gives

Ghosts of the dead still haunt those who live

Imprinted on our souls are scars that can’t heal

Some even forget how to feel

For 45,000 Canadians it was final stage

Some even at young age

Imagine as the news reaches the homes of the lost

Instantly that one last memory is the only thought

But was there not animosity here?

Did we not do things secretly in fear?

We live and lived covering our eyes, ears, and mouths and what’s more

Blind, deaf, and mute to our own discord

We said, “Fight the devil that is Hitler.”

The propaganda was a filter

But never, “Fight the devil that is us.”

Never once did ever we make a fuss

Can we say with a full heart that we do no wrong?

Our country wasn’t unified and strong

Jews came over as refugees trying to escape

They wanted to outrun that ape

But what did we do other than think of ourselves?

We did not care for anyone else

Only our reputation and we turned them away

We really could have let them stay

We assumed that our own were spies

Doing the same thing as those Nazi guys

Concentration camps to internment camps

Giving them darkness without a lamp

Prejudice and petty suspicion

is this some sort of a tradition?

So where there was wrong in our nation before

Now it is here once more

For racism is forever, at least that’s how it seems

It may die down like it’s not around but in one’s blood it streams

The evidence is history

But where it was formed is a mystery

Our earth is defiled again and again

As its people never repent

Its inhabitants destroy each other incessantly

Killing and dying…where is mercy?

Written in our code

Is a darker mode

That is all we have become; it is time to mourn

Our loss of lives and hearts of scorn

social commentary
Like

About the Creator

Shenique

Writing is my vocation. I feel so complete and so warm when I am writing, reading or even talking about my stories or poetry. Therefore I am grateful for this website.

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.