The mothers who once prayed
were now being robbed of everything they own,
never to earn it back.
The fathers who once worked
were now being forced into death camps,
without a kiss goodbye.
But the young man’s hour was up,
this gruesome future was yet to come,
and I was yet to be broken.
I stayed in the shop of a Jewish man,
watching dreams crumble to dust,
and fresh blood stain
the muddy, cobblestone streets.
After all, I am only a krystal ball.
Brenna Norton, Eighth Grade
25
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