Italia

Beyond this towering wall

Beyond these rusted chains

Past this war's depression

Outside the horrors, Italia.

Across the stream of time

Away from sorrow and pain

Within the light, Italia stands

Among his people, tall and proud.

In his left hand, a white poppy

With a wink, his right outstretched

To me, to take me home

To my land, Italia.

Before me, he stands

With a smile upon his face,

Amidst our beaming brothers

To offer me a ticket home.

Behind me came a voice

From a distance, German words

With a fierce order, breaking me

From the bliss of my bella Italia.

Across the camp, I can see

Among the people, new and old

In the shadow of the towering wall

With darkened eyes, they follow.

In my left hand, the Star of David,

With a sob, my right hand still,

Like a sheep, I am forced to walk

Toward another unknown land.

Beyond this towering wall

Beyond these rusted chains

Past this war's depression

At the end, my country, Italia.

A/N: Hello there! This is actually my first FictionPress story or poem (I just felt like I should contribute a little). So to keep it simple, I just copied and pasted a poem that I had to write in my language class some ridiculously long time ago while we were studying World War Two. I tried to make mine from the POV of a young (boy/girl) in the Bolzano transit camp thinking about life during/after the war, with a little personified Italy there in the middle (if you know me from FF.N, you understand that reference). There's symbolism galore. And requirement was that each line had to begin with a preposition. It would probably be better if I didn't have to do that... Anyway, I always appreciate comments, critiques, and other assorted acts of kindness! :)