March of the Living 1999 Diary
April 14, 2:05 PM
Before I write this, I want to say one or two things. I wrote this poem, Echoes, at Majdanik. When I read it out, everyone told me I should publish it. Maybe I will. As I was putting up this page, though, I felt everyone was entitled to read it. I simply ask that you don't take it without asking my permission and without giving me credit. Please!
Written by Julie Golick,
Written at Majdanik, outside the gas chamber
A giant room with concrete walls,
Silence now rings through the halls,
The halls that once heard so many screams,
The screams are now heard only in dreams,
The dreams of the people willing to care,
The people brave enough to stand up and share
In the pain of the people who all came before,
The people who came but who now are no more.
A concrete room where silence reigns,
The walls are all now bare and plain.
You cannot tell from the looks of the room
That so many people once faced their doom
Within the confines of the darkened halls
With their wooden floors and their concrete walls.
And the sound of screams is no longer heard,
The frenzied cries and the final words.
But in the room, unused and dark,
There is a tiny flame, like a little spark.
It comes from a candle that sits on the floor
Of the concrete room that is used no more.
And even though silence now reigns in the halls,
Perhaps there are echoes that even now call.
They fill our minds like fish in a net,
Saying "always remember and never forget."
