Six red candles flicker. One candle for each of the six million Jews who perished during the Holocaust.
And many unknown first names.
The sun shines through the stained glass widows. The beauty of our first spring-like day almost masks the solemness of this Yom Hashoah.
And many unknown last names.
The readers’ voices are solemn. No one smiles.
And many unknown ages.
I read pages of names whose lives ended in unspeakable horror. Scores of people whose lives ended because of hatred.
And many unknown places.
On this Day of Remembrance, I remember those whose lives were cut short. May our world never know horror like the Holocaust again.
2 thoughts on “Six Red Candles”
Yes. Never again.
Your poem breaks my heart. The specificity of names and ages really brings the horror home. Such unspeakable evil…