In his opening speech at the Trial in Nuremberg of the major Nazi war criminals, Sir Hartley Shawcross, Chief Prosecutor for Great Britain and Northern Ireland, described the Tribunal as acting with complete and judicial objectivity to provide a contemporary touchstone and an authoritative and impartial record to which future historians may turn for truth, and future politicians for warning."

The key word here is warning!

By most accounts, on April 30th, 1945, Adolf Hitler committed suicide. The monster who had engineered the Final Solution and systematically wiped out two thirds of the Jews in Europe, the frustrated artist who suffered delusions of grandeur all of his adult life was dead. But, his deeds live on in the memory of survivors and their children, and all of us. Now an integral thread in the Jewish tapestry, the horror of Hitler's Master Plan and its grim success reverberate throughout our society...because history does have a habit of repeating itself.

Today there exists a National Socialist Party whose Nazi members teach their children the same warped ideals that Hitler promoted. There are organizations of White Supremacists and the Ku Klux Klan, and there are individuals, sometimes exposed for that they are by media, unfortunately some who are never discovered, who independent of any group structure teach young minds to hate. There will forever exist the potential of another demagogue rising to power and accomplishing the unthinkable when the times are ripe, and the world vulnerable.

Thus the warning echoes from Nuremberg. The following is a poem entitled "Letter to Hitler" written by Susan Dorling in 1982. It is in memory of history's ugliest crime and serves as a reminder of how one person could have made such a tragic impact on all of humankind. It can happen again.

Evil eyes survey an empire.
Hate your emblem.
Emasculation, violation,
death...your dreams,
our nightmares.
Even today,
decades removed.

Pain emblazoned in red skies,
reek of burnt offerings
to your grotesque distortion
of humanity.
Flowers died, folding gold and magenta petals
against Hell in microcosm.
Purity became shapeless
in the maelstrom of murder,
gouged and gnarled souls
dissolved in one man's revenge.

Magical excuse of a master race,
raised your hand
in multiple execution,
while maniacal laughter
pierced hollow-eye dignity
and the grand plan magnified itself
a thousand times,
as ashes of millions
floated on wind's cold breath.
God's wisdom was questioned
as devils enjoyed orgiastic celebration.

Frenzied madness
fed you, Hitler.
Orgasmic gasps
escaped your foul mouth,
and you were satisfied.

And now, decades later,
time's magician glares
and vomit rises in throats
constricted with helpless sympathy.
Mysterious tricks abound,
and God does take holidays.

We cannot forgive your insanity
or forget.
Your Holocaust
smolders still.