Holocaust

They came for us
in the dead of night,
(though some in the brazen light of day)
not shoving us into cattle cars
nor branding us with evil numbers,
no no.

They seared us with fleshy branding irons
lassoed us with ropes of cruelty.

Made us hang our heads
like sinners, though we’d never known it before.
They came for us in droves,
secretively for the most part;
came to us in crisp business suits and spicy aftershave
in fruit-of-the-looms
or nothing at all.

Clubbed into submission,
we fell, stunned by the hand turned violent
by the scraping of knees
and elbows on unforgiving surfaces.

We fell ungracefully, for there is no beauty in violence;
we fell against tables and chairs
banged our heads or tried to protect them with our scrawny arms.
Made for the slaughter house, truth be told:
you could see it in the pupils of our eyes
dilated with fear.
We reeked of terror;
swallowed our sour bile
even as our bowels and bladders betrayed us,
thus earning us more shame and punishment.

They came for us:
no more needs to be said.
They found us alive
and left us half-dead.