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The Last Butterfly

The Last Butterfly. An Introduction to the Holocaust. Listen to the Poems. As you are listening, let your mind process the words and music you are hearing. On the paper, record the words and/or images that come to mind. At Terezin.

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The Last Butterfly

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  1. The Last Butterfly An Introduction to the Holocaust

  2. Listen to the Poems • As you are listening, let your mind process the words and music you are hearing. • On the paper, record the words and/or images that come to mind.

  3. At Terezin When a new child comesEverything seems strange to him.What, on the ground I have to lie?Eat black potatoes? No! Not I!I've got to stay? It's dirty here!The floor- why, look, it's dirt, I fear!And I'm supposed to sleep on it?I'll get all dirty!Here the sound of shouting, cries,And oh, so many flies.Everyone knows flies carry disease.Oooh, something bit me! Wasn't that a bedbug?Here in Terezin, life is helland when I'll go home again, I can't yet tell.--"Teddy" 1943

  4. Terezin The heaviest wheel rolls across our foreheadsTo bury itself deep somewhere inside our memories.We've suffered here more than enough,Here in this clot of grief and shame,Wanting a badge of blindnessTo be a proof for their own children.A fourth year of waiting, like standing above a swampFrom which any moment might gush forth a spring.Meanwhile, the rivers flow another way, Another way,Not letting you die, not letting you live.And the cannons don't scream and the guns don't barkAnd you don't see blood here.Nothing, only silent hunger.Children steal the bread here and ask and ask and askAnd all would wish to sleep, keep silent and just to go to sleep again...The heaviest wheel rolls across our foreheadsTo bury itself deep somewhere inside our memories. --Michael Flack, 1944

  5. The Butterfly The last, the very last, so richly, brightly, dazzling yellow. Perhaps if the sun's tears sing against a white stone . . . Such, such a yellow Is carried lightly `way up high. It went away I'm sure because it wished to kiss the world goodbye. For seven weeks I've lived in here, Penned up inside this ghetto, but I have found my people here. The dandelions call to me, And the white chestnut candles in the court. Only I never saw another butterfly. That butterfly was the last one. Butterflies don't live here in the ghetto. -- Pavel Friedman, June 1942

  6. "If in barbed wire things can bloom, why couldn't I? I will not die, I will not die.“ -Excerpt from On a Sunny Evening, written in 1944 by the children of Terezin-

  7. Terezin was unique among concentration camps. This was the fake city of safety, the ruse to fool the world.Two hundred thousand persons passed through there, fifteen thousand of them children. Only 132 of those children were known to have survived.The poems and children's drawings were hidden at Terezin inside mattresses and stuffed in cracks between the walls of houses. They were recovered after the war. Many of these other poems and drawings are collected in a book which was published by the Holocaust Museum, "I Never Saw Another Butterfly."

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