The moon may go down, but the night never ends
Here where we mingle with the spirits of the dead
In the ovens, the gas chambers, and the mass graves
In the rooms where they were hung and cooked
The ditches where they were shot and dumped
The hint of burned flesh and charred bones still lingers
In the cold concrete walls if you touch them
Feel their mana, and smell the slight whiff of air
As you take your hands back to rub heat into them
Visualize as best you are able, those harsh winters
Without blankets, sleeping on bare floors for overcrowding
Huddling together, a hopeless bond in struggling to share body heat
Even though with malnourishment you are no longer warm at all
Some of the structures at Dachau are recreations
Some are original to the camp that would mean death
For most who were seized and imprisoned behind barbed wire
Electrified fences, the wretched frail watched over by guard towers
And well-fed men with hair-trigger fingers, ready for target practice
Before they’d one day plead they were following orders from above
Most Germans eventually moved beyond denial, came to accept what they’d done
And attempted to atone for this genocide engineered and perpetrated
Working toward amends for the satisfaction, pride, and even glee
That feverish relish too many had for what they back-slapped over as a job well done
The ghosts of the concentration camps may find thankfulness for that
Achieve some degree of peace, but in no way will their souls ever rest, omnipresent
In this darkness that may never be apologized for enough to see dawn’s light
Lanning Lee 