Boulevard Montmartre at Night, 1897 by Camille Pissarro Boulevard Montmartre at Night, 1897 by Camille Pissarro.
Der wanderer im nebelmeer by Caspar David Friedrich. Der wanderer im nebelmeer by Caspar David Friedrich.
Guernica by Pablo Picasso Guernica by Pablo Picasso.
Jane Haining born 1897 Dunslore Dunfries and Galloway. Died; Auschwitz - Poland July 1944; for the children. Jane Haining born 1897 Dunslore Dumfries and Galloway. Died; Auschwitz - Poland July 1944; for the children.
Jane Haining - she turned to show her kind fair face. Jane Haining - she turned to show her kind fair face.
Le Gare St. Lazare 1877 by Claude Monet Le Gare St. Lazare 1877 by Claude Monet.
Orpheus and Eurydice by George Frederic Watts Orpheus and Eurydice by George Frederic Watts.
The day of shame, 16th July 1942, when the French police rounded up 12,884 people for the SS, including 4,051 children and 5,802 women, most of whom met their death at Auschwitz. Here, jewish detainees leave Velodrome d'Hiver for Drancy camp. The day of shame 16th July 1942, when the French police rounded up 12,884 people for the SS, including 4,051 children and 5,802 women, most of whom met their death at Auschwitz. Here, jewish detainees leave Velodrome d'Hiver for Drancy camp.
The Locomotive The Locomotive.
Victor faynsylber lost a leg fighting for france. Victor Faynsylber lost a leg fighting for france. He sent this photograph to marshal Petain, invoking the legal entitlement of a wounded veteran for his family to be exempted. Officialdom was deaf: with his wife and children, the one-legged ex-soldier was gassed at Auschwitz.

We are, each of us, lost in our thoughts of going home

I saw an old film from a long time ago, it was raining
And the flickering celluloid sky was on fire,
A soldier turned to look, as the camera passed
He smiled, although weary under his load,
A sad smile, so long ago, and the soldiers
Each like the last, turned to look, and they
Smiled as they passed, and wished that they
Were marching home.

Wished that the war was over,
Wished that the fighting was done.
The world still turning,
The rain still falling, and the sky still burning,
Together, though each of them alone,
For they were lost, lost in their thoughts
Of going home.

Peter looked to say farewell, a requiem
For the life which he would never know.
No love of a woman, nor children, this life Unknown.
What could have been, had the dice
Of destiny been thrown by some other indifferent hand,
But the life to come was lost, even as he smiled,
Lost forever before it had even begun, as he was lost
In his thoughts of going home.

When I was a soldier,
Helmeted and dressed for war, we stood
Like gladiators, in ranks, together, alone.
In the milieu of hatred and destitution
As the dice of fate were thrown.
We said a silent prayer, for ourselves
And for the homes we once had known,
But, even as they fell, they were lost,
As we all were lost, in our thoughts
Of going home home.
Remember.

The school gates open and the children run
Racing past grey tenements, winter coats
Worn as cloaks, lines of washing hang limply
In the grimy breeze.
I called out to the child
Who stood, alone, as if the years had never passed
And the suffering and the sorrow which he had known
Were forgotten, at last.
But he could not hear my cry,
Nor see the years before him, as the future beckoned,
This life unknown, as he ran towards his destiny
And his death.
For the seeds of fate are sown, and,
Anyway, he was lost, as we are lost, as they were lost
In thoughts, of going home.

The black train journeys through the night,
As the points change, the mother's weep, lay me down
To eternal sleep, for you know who I am, passing city,
Town and farm.
The life you have, once was mine
No more, I am condemned by the number on my arm.
Long ago, my love and I walked the boulevard of St.Germaine,
Our kisses remembered now
Like a half - forgotten poem, but the dream is lost,
As I am lost, as we are lost, in our thoughts
Of going home.
Remember.

I saw a girl once, a long time ago, lost in a crowd.
She danced for the men who watched, yet all alone,
Her life, unknown.
The lights were bright, yet still
So cold, the beat pulsating, the tinny music, loud.
She danced for the money they had thrown,
Turning and twisting like a doll, the dancer gyrated,
Mechanically, this marionette, lost in her thoughts,
As we are, all of us, lost in our thoughts,
Of going home.

It was strange to see Peter there,
It was such a peaceful place, and pretty,
But so cold.
Peace, only peace and quiet,
Too quiet, perhaps, for a twenty-year old.
Yes, twenty, unlike me he will never age.
Though I have lived my life till now,
Suffered the sorrows and the joys,
Known the love of a woman, fatherhood
And the mystery of another new day.
He will Have none of these, his youth forever, celebrated
In stone.
Amen, remember.

No hate now, nor love nor sorrow, nor regret.
We meet and part, he and I, the man and the youth,
The spirit and the flesh, surely we know
That the human race are but leaves, falling
From a tree.
With the seasons they bloom
And fade, and forever dust, they shall be.

What are children then but flowers,
Which bloom to youth in an afternoon,
Spring and summer, gone, in the blink of an eye
From April month through flaming June.

Listen, from Glencoe to Gaza
The children are weeping, hear, they stand as one
To condemn all war, united in this tryst,
They are keeping, from far away they march, from
Lidice and Mai Lai, Oradour and Sand Creek,
From their devastated hearths they condemn
The violation of women and the stupidity of men. Listen.

One night, alone, driving down a lonely road
A ribbon of silver, in the moonlight.
Beyond, I could see the headlights of the cars
Disappear over the skyline.
A train slithered,
Like a snake by the coast and the sad lights
Of a funfair shimmered, in the blue diesel haze.
Music played softly on the late station, so lonely.
For that fleeting moment,
It was the road from Mainz,
Caught in time, alone in the darkness, it was as it
Had always been, as I thought that it would
Always be, even felt her breath upon my cheek,

So I pressed
The pedal to the floor, I could still believe that
She was waiting for me, thought of the night
As an open door, somewhere, at the end of the road,
That goes on, forever.
But the song had gone, the road was too long
And the shadow voices whispered from the tall trees,
Mad fool, poor fool, you will journey forever,
Lost In your thoughts, of going home.

Orpheus loved his woman, too, so much
He followed her, into the Underworld.
Down, he went, gathering his courage in the chill
To face the Boatman, even took her place, across
The Styx, for he knew, in the darkness
Blinded by his tears, that life without her
Was not living.
I know how he felt, because
My life, also, I would give, and all of the days
And nights still to come,
If I could spend this night, with you.
Yes, I would give them all, gladly
For just this one.

With the hour may come the man,
For people of the world, we are as one,
No better or worse than any race, we show you now
An honest face, and a humble poem for the Scottish nation, by an upstart, risen, above his station.
We are, each of us, lost in our thoughts
Of going home, our home is justice,
For all humankind, for there are no countries
Nor walls, nor wire, in that city of the mind,
No languages, nor hate nor war, a world
Where only peace reigns,
Supreme,
On that far distant shore, there is no King or Queen.