It was a building made of brick and stone,
That became a place of learning,
A second home.
Warmth radiated from the stained-glass windows,
Ruby red rays,
Emerald green haze,
Energising my stride,
Calming my gaze.
We walked down hallways with antiquated pictures,
Of religious persecution,
Barbed wires depicting-
A ‘never to forget’ mission.
A building where strangers became friends,
And friends became family,
A sanctuary where children became adults at the tender age of thirteen,
While stained glass windows shimmered,
The ruby red- and emerald green.
Classrooms where we learned the Hebrew language,
And consumed the grief of our ancestors’ fate,
Behind the Auschwitz gate,
Where they only knew how to hate.
We weren’t given a synagogue to pray in,
Or a religion to believe in,
We weren’t given a life without friction,
Or a land without wars to win.
We pushed and we pulled,
We climbed and we rose-
Above the mountain top,
Despite never ending throes.
We stood tall when others didn’t have to,
We said NO when others took what was ours,
We fought tooth and nail–
For what others were given freely,
And this mentality has become quite stale.
That building of brick and stone,
It stands tall and strong,
But the members within its walls,
Are worn down,
These days have been long.
An imaginary bullseye exists beyond the doors,
The doors that lock behind us,
With fear lying in front of us.
Let us have our place,
Protect us in our space,
For so long we have carried grace,
I believe in our human race.
It was a building made of brick and stone,
Once, it felt like home,
It’s become a place we fear to be,
What will it take?
How far must we go?
To, finally, be set free?
