Ruth

you were tired and stagnant with your
bones piercing through your skin.
your body was a war zone.

black & purple bruises splashed across you
like blood on the concrete of the place you
could never call home. your parched mouth
& crooked little-girl teeth were never sanctuary.

the innocence was brutally beaten out of you
until you were brittle.

you lived in Germany your first 6 years
and then moved to Latvia.
you existed in a place they called a ghetto.

that dual-triangle on your left arm defined you.
it was the reason your scabbed lips couldn't
whisper prayers to the heavens, begging God
to save you from the mean men.

you were 8 when they started gassing.
you weren't raised with radios and laughter.
instead, the scent of your people's flesh burning
to grey ash was the fuel for your nightmares.

out of nowhere, you disappeared.
they had no trace of where you had gone.
your existence wiped clean off the Nazi handbook
but not from our memories.

i remember you, Ruth, and even though your lungs
gave out from all the human-smoke, i will scream
at the top of mine to spread your story.