We remember

If walls could talk, they would also cry at the thought of everything they’ve seen,

they would tell you the unfairness was unreal, the losses, the cries, the broken dreams.

Little ones old enough to almost remember their parents faces. Hungry, stubborn, innocent young humans on the way of never going back to their favorite places.

Nothing more than children, ripped from the arms of their families to be thrown into the fire. For no logical reason, no sides, no causes, the hatred was more powerful than all of us.

No words are enough to explain all the pain and suffering, no time will ever mend all of it, no justice will be made, no comfort will help.

These walls have seen it all, and they grieve, mourn, and witness the little kids faces turn blue, scared, into wreaths of smoke, beneath a silent sky, at an unimaginable time.

Oh to their little minds, bodies, lives. Before the whole world seemed like a promise, broken now, it lays, and the walls have witnessed it all.

Over the walls, through holes, through rooms, through the fences, from the ashes, hear them, remember them, because forgetting them would be killing them a second time.