Jasenovac

The ground is red where many died,

Brothers and sisters, side by side.

Whips and knives, a brutal hand,

Left blood and ashes in the land.

Ovens roared, the cries were lost,

Innocence erased at  what cost?

No mercy given, none to find,

Just endless death, and broken minds.

The earth remembers, cold and deep,

A silence where the victims sleep.

Their names erased, but not their pain,

A wound that time can’t cure or claim.

The river carries muffled cries,

It knows the grief the world denies.

Its waters churn with ruin’s breath,

Still echoing the touch of death.

Each night the air grows tight and cold,

Recalling horrors left untold.

The wind moves slow, as if it bears,

The weight of countless final prayers.

For truth endures in blood and stone,

Defying efforts to dethrone.

It rises through the ash and rust,

Demanding justice, not just dust.