A tiny white lace up boot
Sitting delicately among a thousand other
Shoes.
Each one a survivor,
Compared to the person it once belonged to.

With open eyes,
I see this dirty, simple shoe
Yet with closed eyes,
I see a face.
Tiny, innocent, worried.

With functioning ears,
I hear the sounds of a bustling museum
With closed ears,
A wail.
As a mother is pried from her treasured baby.

With one arm by my side,
I imagine her confusion
With one arm outstretched
I feel her confusion
Pain, youth, love

A tiny white lace up boot
Sitting delicately among a thousand other
Shoes.
Each one a survivor,
Compared to the person it once belonged to.

Shoes now sitting in the Holocaust Museum,
A subtle reminder of the lost.