Concentration Camp
A midnight sphere.
Everything
veiled in mud.
Shadowed.
A Ghost.
Followed by 2,000
Reflections.
Dead.
One need,
one plea–
where there could be
a million…
Food.
I stand,
starving
freezing
dying
dead.
I too,
am a ghost.
I too,
yearn for one thing:
Food.
But I am no longer inside,
looking out,
but outside,
looking in.
I am free,
a spirit with wings.
I am the butterfly
on the outside
of the fence.
~Alverna Hess, sophomore
Our Hands, 1998-1999 Federal Hocking High School Literary Magazine
Aspiring Alverna 