The Innocent Lamb

Dear Reader

My next poem is “The Innocent Lamb”

This piece of work was created about a year back as a tribute to all those people died in the shameful act of humankind, The Holocaust.

The poet is a victim of the holocaust in which approximately six million Jews were killed by the Nazis. He explains how the Jews were systematically massacred in the history’s biggest ethnic mass-murder. The non- Jewish victims of the holocaust included Gypsies, Poles, Communists, Homosexuals, Soviet POWs and the mentally and physically disabled. The most disturbing part of this holocaust was that one million Jewish children were mercilessly murder along with the adults of the group in the concentration camps.

The poet first speaks about his experience in the Nazi Ghetto. He compares his situation to that of an innocent lamb which is kept in a bad maintained restricted area (Ghetto) before the slaughter. He further describes the conditions of the Ghetto. He and his people are all hurdled together in a closed place and their cloths are stripped to their bare minimum. Their cloths are torn off just like a sheep’s fur is trimmed off.

The poet further describes his situation in the concentration camp. All the people are chained and lined up together. The chains look like the ornaments and decoration on the body of a sacrificial lamb. The poet is waiting for his unknown fate just like how an innocent lamb unknowingly waits to be sacrificed at the altar to please the gods. The poet is forced into the concentration camp and killed using poisonous gas.

The poet might have dead a painful death along with his race. But he knows one day his kind will fight back his merciless ethnic murderers and bring justice to his people.

So here it is, I hope you like it.

The innocent lamb

The fallen Twigs,

The fallen Hair.

This filthy world

I can’t bear.

Stuck together,

 Like human cells.

Necks are tied with,

 Jingling bells.

Dug us, just like,

They dug out a clam.

Lined up and decorated,

The innocent lamb.

Like the sheep

Whose fur’s being trimmed.

They striped us

Our shame being skimmed.

Pushed into a small chamber

Stuffed and chained.

Heavy doors closed

My bowls drained.

Secured doors

No soul could flee.

Gases hissing through the vents

No men could see.

Smelling the gases

I burnt my lungs.

In the most painful style

Death showed its tongues.

My race

Died its death proudly.

But we’ll come back one day

Screaming out loudly.

-Sydney B. Monteiro