I Had a Friend

I had a friend at Amersfoort his age like mine a bare eighteen
we had gone to school together, knew each others families
ours was a friendship which had stood the pace.
Then he went on, to Bergen-Belsen; I was left behind
and so I lived, while he had died. Exterminated like a pest
in spite of victory so close. I ask myself "Why was it done"?
and get no answer which makes sense to me.
Now each autumn as the acorns drop, I still return
and place a rose in memory on the memorial.
I find I can no longer hate the ruthlessness, which happened here;
age has softened my relentless animosity, yet I remember still.

I had a friend at Amersfoort his age like mine, a bare eighteen.