Weakest Link

Jordan Sanchez

I began to hate them the first faces of hell and death

In front of us, those flames. In the air, the smell of burning flesh
Our senses were numbed, everything was fading into a fog

Allowing them to be tortured, slaughtered,

gassed, burned, and what do they do?
They praise Your name!
As for me I had ceased to pray.

Our first oppressors pointed their fingers, the

way one might choose cattle,
or merchandise.
Stripped of your life’s worth. Human mice, for the Angel of Death.

A generation that was persecuted endlessly. Exterminated by the Nazi war machine.
Deep inside me, I felt a great void opening.

If one of us stopped for a second, a quick shot eliminated the filthy dog.
Nobody asked anyone for help. One died because one had to.

The night was growing longer, neverending.

I was arguing with Death itself.

His eyes were watery, his face the color of dead leaves.
Are you scared? We too were scared.
Too late to save your old father.
Citations;
1. (Wiesel 19)
2. (Wiesel 28)
3. (Wiesel 36)
4. (Wiesel 68)
5. (Wiesel 45)
6. (Wiesel 49)
7. (Slayer “Angel of Death”)
8. (Disturbed “Never Again”)
9. (Wiesel 69)
10. (Wiesel 85)
11. (Wiesel 89)
12.(Wiesel 98)
13. (Wiesel 105)
14.(Wiesel 107)
15. (Wiesel 70)
16.(Wiesel 111)
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