Six Million

There, but for the random fate
Of graceful fortune do I go,
Survivor of the Holocaust's fiery glow,
Still wondering just why
I was to live and did not die,
Not be just smoke up in the sky,
Still part of the remnant of my people,
Scattered wide and far,
Survivors, born under a lucky star,
Sweet world, each day, given to me,
I'm grateful just allowed to be,
Lie in my garden, my mind at rest,
Feel free in this land which is the best
Enjoy sunny days and moonlit nights,
Live in a place where I have my rights,
But often, looking up at the cloudy sky,
I see the six million riding up high,
With plaintive voices I hear them sigh:
'It was not right that we had to die,
Remember us, do not ever forget
The camps, the ovens and the dead!'
And then a haze comes over my eye
When my escape makes me
Feel guilty and I cry...

Alfred Charasz
Copyright 2007 Alfred Charasz