By: Kyden Payne

How would you feel if you were stripped of your identity?

Everything you stand for, ripped apart by an omnipotent force,

Your religion, values, principles, all washed away like a drawing in the ocean sand.

How would you deal with being defined as a number not a name?

Like an encaged animal, surrounded by all the despairs of war and corruption

Captured and then labored, slaughtered and never forgotten.

History is written by the winners and not the losers; they, however, are forgotten.

You make up who you are, and you are who you make up, and that is your identity.

However, this identity is lost in corruption.

You should be able to have your own rights, your precedences and values but all under force

All under the force of one man, with one deplorable dream of stripping one’s nature and name.

Can you find the salt in the ocean, the oxygen in the air, or even the glass in the sand?

Houses ransacked of goods, and rid of a curse – a curse drawn by power and not in sand.

Deprived of possessions received and given holy, now buried or burned but never forgotten.

“Oh come out ye Jews, see the power of the Fatherland.” Oh what a fright to see that name.

Chucked into a wagon and crushed by hope, given merely scraps and what’s left of their identity

The journey like an eternity, an eternity of lost faith and hope ripped by a brute force.

A force of terror and not of peace, a whole now balancing on the toothpick of corruption.

Persecuted for their beliefs, and tossed away like scraps to a dog, a dog named corruption.

Thrown into camps and made to work vigorously until they’re simply left as the sand,

The sand of creation, the eye of truth, and the nobility of all kept under the control of force.

Friends, family, and relations all lost the pain not there, but still never forgotten.

The day the ghettos were stripped, stripped naked of its community and global identity,

Oh alas the day the bombs fell short and the work grew tired, the day the world forgot its name.

Even through the times of tragedy and displeasure, the Jews took their faith and their name,

Even though the lion was about to bite the last morsel of the mouse, adding to the corruption.

Like a well written message in the damp sand,

Like a relic of the past but never forgotten,

The faith in a lost world like a blind man caught in a maze, the only thing holding him was force.

Humanity struggling for the truth, like finding the eye of the storm only confronted by force.

The Germans spitting their power through anguish and destruction, all for a winner’s name.

Robbed of sanity, and pleading for a savior, the Jews were not forgotten.

The world found its balance, and countries fought bravely for the freedom from this corruption.

Brothers in arms, allies in hands, all fighting to keep these words kept in the damp sand.

Blood stained on the hands of the Germans, and the scars of a world still healing from the band-aid of identity.

But still in the midst of corruption, the writing still laid slumbering in the immortal void of sand,

Alas the world had remembered its name, it had finally regained its identity.

The scars of a wrongdoing never forgotten, brought by an immense, power-yearning force.