I thought nothing good
could come from being here in
the Kielce Ghetto,
but I was wrong.
I have found a friend.
“My name is Moishe,” I tell him.
“My name is Henry,” he says back.
We both speak our names as if they matter.
Henry is small like me.
We make a good team.
Every morning
we go wait at the ghetto gate
for the guard to take us to the labor camp.
We dig trenches.
Shovel sand.
Both of us quick.
Both of us strong.
They call us “little guys,”
but we don’t mind.
Today the guard rewards
our hard work.
A loaf of bread for each of us.
Henry and I smile.
We make a good team.
Because of us
our families will be less hungry tomorrow.