Newspapers In Education
The Cycle
By Zack Fletcher
Seventh-grader at Presque Isle Middle School
I climb the ladder,
step by step,
until I reach
the small opening
to get inside.
Another day of watching these sheep in their pen.
They come from home
to train to camps,
Every group,
home to train
to camps.
Every day
the same routine,
watch, eat, sleep.
I notice the sign saying Arbeit Macht Frei.
How could they tell someone such a lie?
I see the head official
pacing the area
As if he were waiting
for an important package
to arrive.
The tracks await
a new shipment.
Is this what
he was waiting for?
I look to my right,
were the labor is done.
People slaving away on the edge of death.
Surrounded by barbed wire and bullets,
Wondering when their time will come.
Will they live or die?
I turn around and see a long chain of women,
Like boxcars on a train,
All naked and holding their children like passengers.
They know
their minutes are numbered.
The door opens and a new crowd enters their death.
The cold dead bodies
come out the other side,
Screaming and crying
their last words.
Bodies piled high
like hay bales,
Into the oven,
one by one.
The doors close
and all that’s left is ash,
Piles and piles,
the ash of millions.
Then the cycle repeats,
labor, gas, ash,
a new crowd,
labor, gas, ash.
The cycle doesn’t stop,
Labor, gas, ash.
