Student Art & Poetry

This is a selection of student responses, in the form of poetry and art work, to their participation in the Wings Of Witness program.

Another View

They all line up, 
helpless and weak.
But I am as helpless as they are.
My commander yells, "Fire"
and I shoot.
I know that it is wrong,
but I do not know right. 
I have been taught to hate. 
I cannot bear their screams,
but I do not know their pain. 
And yet, I shoot on
I must.
Looking into their eyes,
I cannot help to care,
to feel,
to cry.
Looking at my commander,
I know that it must be my fate.
I am here, 
and doing this for a reason.
A reason that I do not know or understand.

(7th Grade Student, Pierre Van Cortland Middle School, NY)

The Last Smile

The dirty train,
The dirty camp,
No blue sky today,
Not a smile,
A last smile,
to cheer me up today. 

The line of judgment,
The line of fate,
The line of hope and despair,
Line one to life,
Line two to death,
But both leading to despair.

It's my time,
To meet my fate,
Whether I live or die,
He looks at me,
"Line two!" he says,
It's my time to die.

The dirty train,
The dirty camp,
No blue sky that I can see,
The man gives me a smile,
And he knows this smile,
Is the last one that I'll see. 

(7th Grade Student, Pierre Van Cortland Middle School, NY)


So many skeletons walk in the fenced-in area.
Their pale skin outlines the bones that are longing to crack. 
Something is missing from this bone yard. Food. 
They walk stiffly, strange, like mummies. 
Dried of a soul and heart cut out. 
Their spirit will always try to float to the after-life--if there is any. 
Soon they will die, one by one, slowly and painfully.
Hatred sneaks up with its club of spikes 
and smashes their weak bodies to the ground. 
While the men, fat and full, sit in their offices and give commands 
as they chew on a chicken bone and smile at their progress

(7th Grade Student, Pierre Van Cortland Middle School, NY)


I slowly crawl to get my food.
I am weak and tired,
but I will still get my food. 
I hide in fear,
waiting for fiends to go on their way. 
But I will still get my food.
It is closer now. 
I can rest now.
A well-deserved rest.
When I wake up,
you can find me in the sky with the birds.
I am now a butterfly. 

(7th Grade Student, Pierre Van Cortland Middle School, NY)

Wings of Witness

I don't know how you feel.
I don't think I ever will.
What you went through,
I could never compare.
But to show you my love and compassion,
and to let you know I'm always here,
I have made this for you.
A butterfly with wings of love.
May all the hard times and struggle
be swept away. 
I wish I could've helped you. 
But now I never will.
All I can do is pray,
And love you till the end of time. 

(7th Grade Student, Pierre Van Cortland Middle School, NY)

On Wings of A Butterfly

On wings of a butterfly,
We all can be saved,
Soaring freely into the sunlight.
On wings of a butterfly,
We all are safe,
Flying with the wind.
On wings of a butterfly,
We will all have helped,
And we will have come together,
On wings of a butterfly

(7th Grade Student, Pierre Van Cortland Middle School, NY)

The Dark Side of The Butterfly

Here it comes, flying straight and true, on a gentle breeze,
 heading for you , colorful and pretty , yet ugly at the same time,
  who made it that way you think, but still it
 looks just fine,
 as it comes toward you, it looks like a picture you once drew,
 but yet it is not perfect, as its drifts by, you realize
 that you are seeing the dark side of the butterfly

(7th Grade Student, Pierre Van Cortland Middle School, NY)

Who Will Remember

by Michael M.

This train flies by through the cold dark air.
This train swiftly flies by, and yet I know not where.
    I am cold, and cannot breath
as death reveals his frosty seath.
    I stand in the dark as this train flies
by. And suddenly I begin to cry,
for I know not where I'm going
    Suddenly some light, I know not where,
then comes much mist through the air.
    As I walk down below, I suddenly
know, that this is the end.
But who will remember me when I die,
Who is left to shed a tear and cry.
"So young did this martyr die"

What We Can't Imagine

What we can't imagine,
Is what these people went through,
The death of millions of uncounted people.
But the wings of those still remain,
Only because they left them to stand proud.
They didn't fly away
Even though they were able to.
Their wings could take them anywhere until,
Until the hawks
They came and killed,
Never tired and never full,
They killed them all
Making race such a small amount,
They thought of nothing else.
The wings come back,
The wings of love
The wings of death
The wings of witness.


Children's art 1.jpg (39311 bytes)



Wings of Witness is its name,
Recognizing tragedy is its game.
Holocaust victims are relieved to know,
That you and I are not the foe.
The massive wings are meant to be,
Dominant symbols of liberty.
The soda tabs, so trivial and small,
Are clear cut symbols of those who fall.
Jeffrey Schrier and students of North,
Would love to help, our love we put forth,.
This enlightening work of art,
Will help to heal our wounded heart.
For those who were slain in times of death,
Our heart go to you, every breath, every breath


Children's Art2.jpg (18568 bytes)



Some deserted their families
Others were taken away
But the thing that remains
Is the proof of those that say
"He killed 6 million Jews
But he left me here to break to you the news."


One mark will not perish,
One cannot be forgotten,
Such a deep wound left behind,
    Remains to remind,
Of the lives taken,
Of the families broken,
Of the children that never received their chance,
    To remind us,
Of the senseless acts of hate,
Of the resentment,
Of the bloodshed of our fellow men.

    The child that falls will bleed.
    A scar formed,
        Reminds him,
Of the incident that caused it,
The incident that hurt him.
Will this child repeat the fall?
He will see the scar,
Learn never to repeat his mistake.

One man has uncovered a scar,
Brought it out,
For all to see.
For all to learn from.

Let us all remember what scarred our world,
The mistake made.
Let us know not to repeat it.
We will see the scar,
And we will remember.
    Remember the killngs,
    Remember the lives,
    Remember the prejudice,
    Remember this scar, 
        As the Holocaust.
This man has told us of the scar.
He remembers.
He is one who is not afraid.
One who will not ignore,
One who will not pretend it didn't happen,
One who will remember the mistake.
One who will expose this scar so all can see.

Wings of Witness,
Teach us,
Tell us,
Of the scar.
So we will remember,
Not repeat the mistake.
Let us live in harmony,
Wings of Witness,
And tell your story to the world


Children's art3.jpg (37148 bytes)


The feather and the wing

As the gun barrels surrounded them
The wings came swooping low
He handed out fake passports
Which let the people go.

As the people went
The guns don't shoot
The people say great thanks to you.

They are now free
And so are we
We thank you for your heroism.

And so tonight with sculptor Jeffrey Schrier
We learned to build a feather.

The feathers are made from eleven million soda tabs
But the true thing is
Each tab holds eleven million peoples souls.

To them let us hope they did not die in vain,
Because they lost their lives
From a man that was insane.

The wings that helped them fly away
We helped to build tonight.
With G-ds help and peace will let their spirits rest

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