I am number 34972
All I have is this number
The solitude of my identity
Trapped in the containment of these numbers
I don’t even remember what my real name is.
I wish I did.

I am number 34972
My crime is unsure
But my punishment is inevitable
This shoah inquires my people to remain captive in this cell.
A cell fit for maybe four, no six men
But holds twenty -four.
They call me, to retrieve my food
But what food is on my plate?
Scraps that appear they are for the dogs.
Scraps that number 34972 will not take.

I am number 34972
My father was today
He didn’t have a number
But then again,
He didn’t need one
He was a lamb dragged into the fire
To instill fear in the hearts of those
Already heartbroken
And you know the worst part?
The guard told me a week ago.
But if I was to tell another soul
My number would be disintegrated
Into the fiery threshold
Just like the lamb
Just like my lamb

I am number 34972
The American troops crashed through the gory walls
The annihilation was over
Salvation has shown his face where the shadows dwelled for a while
But such a declaration externally needs more of a progress on the inside
A soldier told me what my name was
Turner
Jonathan Shiloh Turner
But number 34972 is what I know
It’s the only thing that was under my possession
Something I could control.


I am number 34972
I am a free prisoner
But what is so great about being free
Can freedom erase the memories of my pains?
Of my mistakes?
Can it give me back years that were easily taken away?
My arm is embedded with the five numbers that kept me alive
These numbers may fade,
But the journey that those numbers saw and experienced
Are too excruciating to just fade away.
Jonathan Turner may be alive
But the death that occurred within me
And still does
Proves only one thing:
I am number 34972