The air is thick. Through the wind are carried the shut up screams of the people, people who were kept here. I feel the men, women, and young that were forced to stay and work on these grounds. I can feel the heaviness of the past looming here still, it is in the wildflowers blooming in the saddest way, bending with the breathes of the breeze. It is in the angry clouds which occupy the sky and shield the sun, a curtain of hopelessness hanging overhead.
The people who brought others to this place, the people who betrayed their neighbors, the people who didn't speak up, didn't ask the important questions, I want to hate them. I want them to see the damage that they've done. 70,000 lives taken in this camp alone, the mass graves with nothing but a date marking them. I want them to realize the sins they have committed, the lives they stole, directly or indirectly. I want them to know just a portion of the hurt their victims knew. A hurt I do not know. A hurt I cannot fathom. To have everything you hold important taken away: family, friends, possessions, hair, clothing, lifestyle, traditions, freedoms. Unfathomable.
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