2nd draft

Please look at the new, second draft of Beneath The Grove of Trees and feel free to make comments between the two. As always, thanks for reading.

Beneath The Grove of Trees 2nd draft

Looking into their eyes, I’ve wondered if they knew?
Did they understand that the time beneath the grove of trees was their last?
Children played, old men talked, and women handed out bread
Soon they lined up and marched like good Jews

They carried clothing, suitcases, toys,
the things they brought on the train ride from home.
Coats, hats, scarfs, and shoes, socks, undergarments
treasures to those conducting the day.

Home, roundup, train, gun, then a pleasant place beneath the grove of trees
Some may have asked what it all could mean
Stand tall little ones as you walk, old ones lift up your chins
mothers look brave for the photographs, soon it will be all that’s left.

Ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, sixty
the decades that roll on and the photographs remain.
Looking into their eyes, I have to wonder if they knew?
Did they understand that the time beneath the grove of trees was their last?

Their faces, their eyes, their fear, their common star
reminds us today that they could not understand.
We know that the time beneath the grove of trees was their last
and photographs remain with us to speak out Never Again!

Clinton Thomas ©2008

Two Pictures That Inspired Beneath The Grove of Trees

It could be said that many images inspired the first draft of Beneath The Grove of Trees . However , the two below were used when I started writing the poem. The Nazi organization had death camps such as Auschwitz surrounded by trees. Beneath the grove of trees was actually a caption used on the top photograph. Thank you for reading.

Beneath The Grove of Trees - (1st Draft)

Looking into their eyes, I have to wonder if they knew?
Did they understand that the time beneath the grove of trees was their last?
Children played, old men talked, and women handed out bread
Soon they lined up and marched like good little soldiers

They carried their clothing, suitcases, toys, and
whatever else they brought on the train ride from home.
Coats, hats, scarfs, and shoes, socks, undergarments
treasures to those conducting the day.

Home, roundup, train, gun, and a pleasant place beneath the grove of trees
Some must have asked what it all could mean
Stand tall little ones as you march by, old ones lift your chins up
look brave for the photographs, soon it will be all that’s left.

Ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, sixty and so on
decades that roll by and the photographs live on.
Looking into their eyes, I have to wonder if they knew?
Did they understand that time beneath the grove of trees was their last?

Their faces, their eyes, their fear and their common star
reminds us all today that they did not understand.
We now understand that the time beneath the grove of trees was their last
and photographs remind us. Never Again!

(Clinton Thomas ©2008)