Only Ashes Remain by Bairam Haliti
They come from far-flung places -
men, women, children,
hungry, dry, unshod -
They are the Roma,
dressed in rags,
walking through mud.
They are drawn by
promises of a land
they can call their own,
houses, fields, firesides:
false Ustashi words.
They are a people of sorrow.
Only a chamber of gas
awaits them.
Their infants are screaming,
all sleep forsaken.
Their land is a mound
of charred limbs.
Where once there were
dreams,
white horses,
distant plains,
only ashes remain.
The innocent child's smile
has evaporated into sky.