Tuesday, November 15, 2016

Buchenwald

And there I was, walking alone in silence through the empty concentration camp of Buchenwald.

Since it was Monday, the museum was closed and the concentration camp was empty and deserted when I arrived.

In silent sorrow, I walked along the rows of barbed wire fences as the hoarfrost left a light powder on the frozen ground.

In silent sadness, I walked through the gates that read Jedem das Seine—everyone for themselves.

In silent horror, I walked in and out of the crematoria with stacks of urns filled with ashes.

In silent emptiness, I walked past the razed barracks of the prisoners of Buchenwald—leaving memorial stones on the markers.

In the silence, I heard echoes of anguish.

The wind sweeping through whispered to me of dark days ahead.

The only thing that allowed me to retain my sanity were the scores of windmills in the distance, reminding this knight-errant that I must choose fight over flight.


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