All Who Remain Poem by John F. McCullagh

Today three hundred gather recalling to the World its' shame.
They've come once more to Auschwitz on a more comfortable train.
The youngest, in their Seventies, were children at the time,
when Russians overran the camp and exposed the Nazis' crimes.
If you were gypsy Gay or Jew incarcerated there
They starved and worked you unto death-
Your grave was in the air.
The walks were paved with bits of bone from those who died before.
These lives and deaths were cataloged for the Reich Chancellor.
All who remain now gather for this last and final time,
to testify to their suffering and rebuke those who deny.