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WE REMEMBER THEM At the rising of the sun and at its going down We remember them At the blowing of the wind and in the chill of the winter, We remember them At the opening of the buds and in the rebirth of the spring, We remember them. At the rustling of the leaves and in the beauty of autumn, We remember them. When we are lost and sick at heart, We remember them. When we have joy we crave to share, We remember them. When we have decisions that are difficult to make, We remember them. When we have achievements that are based on theirs, We remember them. As long as we live, they too will live, for they are now part of us, As we remember them.

The Butterfly The last, the very last, So richly, brightly, dazzlingly yellow. Perhaps if the sun's tears would sing against a white stone. Such, such a yellow Is carried lightly way up high. It went away I'm sure because it wished to kiss the world good-bye. For seven weeks I've lived in here, Penned up inside this ghetto. But I have found what I love here. The dandelions call to me And the white chestnut branches in the court. Only I never saw another butterfly. That butterfly was the last one. Butterflies don't live here, in the ghetto. I would like to extend a special thank you to the following: The United States Holocaust Memorial Museum for inspiring these pages. Simon Wiesenthal for his wonderful and comprehensive Web sites. The Mining company for the well presented information on the Holocaust. And to all of the other Websites I have browsed while working on this assignment. Return to Main Holocaust Page Return to Home