You, yes you…
You think you know?
Tell me, what do you know?
You can give me facts and figures,
Lists of numbers and statistics,
You speak in a dry dead monotone,
You know this but you don’t feel it.
But know you this…
Yes, every number,
Every dot on that page,
They were people.
People who looked different,
They had the same pearly passions,
The same daily dreams,
The same jolly joys,
The same high hopes.
Into cattle trucks wet with abattoir stink,
Into barbed wire tattooed around veins,
Into cells shrill with apocalyptic hymns,
Into Death’s breathing gas.
Their tales were ours,
There is blood on the wires of history,
Look to it and fear it…
We preach it
but we fail to live it
or wake up and embrace it.