and no witnesses left except those who were small children and not burned or smashed against the walls, small children old enough perhaps to walk young enough to be carried but old enough to recall once there were tables where they were fed before they had to walk, walk, walk, small children who had fathers once never seen again, grandmothers who did not last the walk, small children who survived deserts, mountains and thirst and were never apologized to or acknowledged by the world that they existed, except by small poems.