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Everything Will Be Okay
Lindsay, Age 13, Green Bay, WI

It’s five days, I told myself, since I’ve seen any sun,
even longer since I’ve been able to laugh or skip or run.
My head is sore, my hands shaking, my mouth is completely dry
No more life inside of me, not even enough to cry.
The train is bumpy and rough, throws me every which way
My elbows are scraped, knees are bruised, my soul is wandering away.
A tug on my shoulder, warm breath on my hand announces the presence of
my sister.
I feel for her waist, hug her as tightly as my frail arms can hold.
I pat her head, and kiss her cheek, but… she’s so cold!
Momo is my silent angel; she cannot hear, she cannot speak.
Mother and Pappy had to hide it from those evil men, so they couldn’t
hurt her, they said
I knew better: I knew that the Nazi’s would have left her for dead.

Through the cramped Ghetto, with over fifteen people we shared
We continued to hide our secret, lied as fluently as we dared.
After three long months of discomfort and terror, we were stuffed in a
train
Like worthless, unneeded boxes, all brown and bland
Driven off to some unknown area, to some scary new land.

In Auschwitz we arrive, a place I never dreamed I’d ever see.
The Nazi’s tell us it’s a place for us to work and dwell,
I heard Pappy whispering to Mother, “This is only a severe hell.”
He catches my eye, I look away guiltily, wondering what to say.
He walks up to Momo and I, takes us into his arms, and murmurs these
words,
“Everything will be okay,”

Only hours after he spoke these words, he was parted from us
Chosen to do hours of work and labor.
Momo cries, I lean down close to her, put my hands on her shoulder
Although she can’t hear me, I spoke those words:
“Everything will be okay,”

Two days turned to two weeks, which turned to two months.
Mother and I continued to fight against Nazi’s suspicions about Momo.
Every day it grew harder, everyday I felt they came closer to discovering.
One day, Momo and I were put into separate showers
A Nazi officer came up to her and ordered, “You’ll go to the left,”
When Momo didn’t move, he repeated his words, “Left, left!”
So afraid for my sister’s life, and completely chilled by his
words-“Are you deaf?”
I broke from my line, raced over, crying, “She hasn’t had proper
schooling yet,
She doesn’t know the difference!”
The Nazi officer, we could tell, hardly believed us. Momo was almost nine.
I felt nausea flooding through me; it was time.
The Nazi’s will kill her, I know they would, and it would be my fault.
But all they did was put Momo in a different line for the showers
I let out a prayer of thanks, believing everything was all right.
Without warning, Mother slips away, creeping between the crowd.
She reaches Momo, shoves her to the ground on her hands and knees.
I hear her whisper, “Crawl Momo! Crawl to sister, honey!”
Momo crawls over to me, and I quickly push her behind me.
“Everything will be okay,” I tell Momo, “You’ll see.”


The guards never noticed, Momo and I came out safe and sound.
Mother never returned, and the kind lady we bunked with broke our hope down:
“She’s been gassed.” Momo would have been killed, but Mother saved her
life.
The realization hit me harshly, I felt it slash through my heart like
a knife.
Momo and I cried all night, until the moon had almost set.
And when we woke up the next morning, I felt something like regret.
I could have switched with Momo instead, but Mother’s decision didn’t
sway.
So I took Momo’s hand, told her once more, “Everything will be okay.”

World War II raged on, while the thousands inside our camp still hoped.
Momo and I grew weaker every day, for two years we coped.
We came close to death many times, but survived each threat a new way.
And then it came, the liberation, that holy, holy day.

Thanks to the records the Nazi’s kept, Momo and I were able to return
years later,
And find out what became of our father.
We half hoped he had lived, just somewhere where we could not find him.
But we found his name on one of the lists. Sickness had caused him to
pass away.
I felt I should have known it, but why not have faith anyway?
I looked up into the air, where I imagined my father’s smile
“Thank you for that faith. It’ll always be worthwhile.”

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