Nobody told me I couldn’t
so I walked along the single track,
a phantom sound
from somewhere close by
and the barb wire scratches the lens
of the camera as I try to take
a poignant picture; no guards,
the solemn vow of the past
being picked apart
rivet by rivet
as I get to about one hundred yards
down the track
and the fear still seeps through my shoes
as I imagine the terror that this final stop
in gas and smoke and bullet
in the land of foul stench
of Human ideology.
Ian D. Hall 2016