Who's To Blame? Poem by Mandy rachelle

My name, Solomon Radasky
Peace, goodwill, coat maker
Family of 8, son, brother, and lover to no one but god

Who is to be blamed?
What could cause such madness?
Is it, he who hears yet tells not a soul and halts from aiding the desperate that call?
Who is to be blame for this insane massacre?

Many of the same,
The will to life too strong
A barrel to the back
A sentence of death to whom claimed
My mother’s sweet voice, my elder sisters joy,
No jewels it seems, well that’s a pity
A stone, a crystal, a shiny scrape,
Would save your dammed souls, for that few seconds more
But no reply,
Tell me then how do the shining gates of pearl look to you?
Soon to follow!
cried my father
As a loaf of wheat smuggled
Sopped the crimson mess flowing from his heart

Who is to be blamed?
Is it, he who knows not and turns a bewildered eye?
Tell me please, I beg it to be said, who is to be responsible for this unreal anguish?

Life hangs and nothing can be done
What is the worth of survival to those? -to me-
An ankle, pints of life giving liquid, forever gone,
Loved ones missing, burning
Names of segregations, starvation, separation
The pounding of bullets ringing eternally in tormented minds
A loved one turning unseeing eyes
The exhale of their seized breath ringing with a deafening finality
What is it to live
When nothing but the looming threat of death
Hangs with a sadistic pleasure over our ragged and shattered spirits
Working to live is what we’re told
Working to die is what we know
The gas is toxic but almost a relieve
The ash is thick and the only salvation left for our conquered souls

Who is to be blamed?
Is it, he who knows and continues with no regret, for the sole reason of politics?
What is the reason for this heartbreak, this mass murder of women, children, and men?
Why did it continue without an end?

A chill fills me full
I no longer know if I’m going or coming
My motions feel not my own
My arms shake with exhaust
a rancid smell filters from what rags hang on my shrinking form.
The will to live not forgotten
I can feel it now, pumping, slumping, moving, tattooed into my very arm
Beating in sync with what once could be called a heart
But with no feelings left and all tears in dearth
The meaning makes no sense
I watch silently with no regret as children of all ages are thrown
Into the devils chock hold
Feeding, raising, expanding the evil rain of terror
As their young and malnourished forms feed the frenzy of the devil’s hell fires
Their pain filled screams serenading the devil for only a few seconds
Before once more a hunger for further anguish consumes him completely
I stand here now shoveling bags of sand onto there finally resting place
A grave site for millions and many more
As the hungry fires lick greedily at my sweat drench face

Who is to be blamed?
Was it I, for not going, showing, knowing when time was of the essence? Or was it him?
The threat of death, the chill of fate and destiny, was it ment? Could it be that God has forsaken us and we’re ment to die?

The bumping, jumping, and flopping
Backward, forward,
No air, just stares
Insanity has spread as once more I watch
An act of madness
A weakened father strangled by his deranged son
This to will pass soon
Here I am on a train ride once more
Never knowing to where there could be
But not knowing seemed the best anymore
Hours of walking had brought me with the rest of these people
Transferred once more out of camp Auschwitz, like many other camps before
On to the next death camp that could hold my final resting place to be
Shoved into a shed before the boarding to a train
2,000 or more men
Was whom I had shared the past three nights of my life with

To bad so sad
Another stop is here maybe this time is my time to cheer
Maybe the Germans had lost and were found
And soon enough we’d be home bound
But alas why hope such useless things
When our time grows short and no end is seen
Like cattle we march to our deaths or camp
Nobody knows
So we continue to count
Count the days, the steps, the meals and friends
Until one day there’s nothing left
A shot rings true and soon enough a person drops
His skin as pale as the full moon’s glow
Red spurting, dirtying, leaking out
His life was ended and many afoot knew
That this struggle for life had only just begun a new
With only a pull and a bang
Two more lay helpless
And that was my cue
To haul what little lay left on my bones back to the train and start anew

Who am I to blame?
Is it, truly so, that the only to blame is Hitler?
But if that was so,
Then why was there no one to help against a reign of one so insignificant?
Are all to blame for this silent massacre,
Who alone could shoulder the pain of millions upon billions?
Who is willing to understand and bear?
To comprehend that their lack of action killed millions and scared thousands more?
Is their no one to take the blame for killing babies not yet one, their hopes burnt out
And futures in ruins, forever gone, to never be known
What is there left for me to say?

Days more past after the incident
More than half of the beginning 2,000 Jews had perished untimely
And even fewer were still alive now.
A noise was heard
Hope filled my chest even though I told my self the worst
The sounds of American soldiers filled my straining ears.
I could feel the fluttering of butterflies in the cavity of my shaking chest
A scream of desperation left my mouth before I could think twice
And soon the whole cart was up
Helping to capture the attention of what could possible our one-way ticket home
And so they came and
our forever turmoil found it’s end
in the kindness shown
by that of American soldiers

my name:
128232 =18 = Chai = LIFE
Solomon Radasky,
Son, brother, Jew, concentration camp survivor

Mother- deceased 3 sisters- deceased
Father-deceased 2 brothers- deceased

Lone survivor out of a family of 78.



-school project