Eleven million innocent people passed <br />through this gate, and <br />never returned. <br />Arbeit macht frei- such a lie. <br /> <br />Walking through this unassuming <br />rusty iron gate, you see what <br />looks like a village. But then <br />there's the barbed wire. <br /> <br />The bar across the road says 'Halt! ' <br />It's up now, and the gates are open wide <br />to the freedom these people achieved only in <br />death. Arbeit macht frei- such a lie. <br /> <br />A bird soars over this haunted place. Is it the bearer of the freedom <br />so many died to achieve, or of the death <br />so many got but didn't deserve? The souls of millions <br />roam this tragic land, for evermore. <br /> <br />The sun sets on this terrible place- a thing of <br />ironic beauty- the colours muted in remembrance <br />of the millions dead. <br />Arbeit macht frei- such a lie. <br /> <br />Arbeit macht frei- the biggest lie <br />ever told. No amount of work could ever <br />set these people free. <br />Such atrocity, nevermore.<br /><br />Jessica Bunnell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/arbeit-macht-frei/
