Stench filled nostrils flair in the morning light,

as a bundle of rags lay stale, motionless, huddled in plain sight.

Grubby fingers reach out into the gutters larder,

A mirage of a child, it's soul grown harder.

Eyes downcast in the drizzling rain,

his head bowed, invisible to their sight,

the thread bare coat shuffles, accepting his plight.

Every bone senses the ghetto's breathing,

as his liniage lie in the mud dead and bleeding.

Cold knarled hands tucked beneath her coat,

hiding the gem, the symbol of their hope.

Holding her breath as she passes the guard,

she prays to God that they'll come to no harm,

that her hidden child won't squirm and stays sleeping.

As the sirens blare to mark the new day,

the Rabbi quickly hides the Torah away,

willing his people to quiet inside,

As hollow eyes search for a light amongst the lies.

Resignation etched with evey inflicted blow,

his people accept the light they will know.