By Helen Long
A voice was heard in Ramah, Lamentations, weeping and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children, Refusing to be comforted, Because they are no more.
In Memory of Leopold Kessler
How can a poet ever hope to write
About extermination on that scale?
Where Darkness seemed to triumph over Light,
And very few survived to tell the tale.
What words suffice for children’s death by gas,
Their little toys abandoned in a heap?
What hatred made this terror come to pass?
Did Rachel cry for all her slaughtered sheep?
Emaciated bodies stand and stare—
The remnant of six million who are gone—
To ashes or into the smoke-filled air—
Where once the light of human life had shone.
We must remember those six million lost,
Final Solution? No, a Holocaust!