…I never saw another butterfly…: Children’s Drawings and Poems from Terezin Concentration Camp, 1942-1944, Second Edition, Edited by Hana Volavkova, is not easy to read. Not for lack of continuity or for poor grammar, but because it is impossible to fathom how much these young children suffered, and how quickly they were forced to grow up amid such horrors.

This book starts with a well written forward by renowned author Chaim Potok. It gives the history of Terezin as a city, and then what it was like when the Nazi SS took over. It tries to answer the basic questions of the Holocaust; all the whys and hows. It talks about Terezin as a “model ghetto,” the plans of the “Final Solution,” discusses how we have these works of art today, and sets the scene for the rest of the book.

To look at these drawings and to read the poetry, opens a window into this bleak world.

The first poem, At Therezin by a boy named Teddy, is about how it felt to be a child alone on your first night in the ghetto. Perhaps the most famous poem, and piece from which the title comes, The Butterfly is also included.

The poems and stories talk about the bleak conditions, the people around them, and, almost all of them mention the thought of home, and the desire to be there again with their families.

Not all of the things in this book are sad. A Letter to Daddy sounds very hopeful, and The Little Mouse is actually amusing. Many of the pictures show memories of happier times, family celebrations; butterflies and flowers play a prominent role. It is amazing that these children had so much of their media, when they had so little else.

Two epilogues, one by Jiri Weil, and the final by Vaclav Havel bring the reader back to modern reality, and try to give one perspective on these atrocities.

The final words in the book: “A total of around 15,000 children under the age of 15 passed through Terezin. Of these, around 100 came back.”

Though these pieces give an incredibly poignant portrayal of life in the ghetto, and they do much to bring understanding to the plight of these children, I would not recommend this book for anyone under the age of 13 or 14. The book is very blunt, death is not always spoken, but in almost all of the pieces, it is implied. And, so much pain is almost incomprehensible.

But, at the same time, I see this book and an example of having to see what is behind us before we can move forward.