Children of the War

When I think about the time when I was a child,
I see no worries, no problems, no pain ~ and yet,
Those times have passed; they wanished as if nothing mattered,
As if life was a dream dreamt in one night … long night.
And I think about past crushes ~ and my first love ~
It all seems so far away, so distant, as if it never was.
They came and left and he died … somewhere in the dirt patch.
The war destroyed all ~
And I think about the childhood memories and the happy times.
The rain fell as if the heavens opened and the angels decided to cry;
I danced letting their tears kiss my cheeks.
And I think about the woods, running between the trees barefoot;
The grass was so soft and green; I listened to the leaves chatter
With the wind; I secretly watched the animals play.
And I think about the sea ~ the blue nean and the sun
Setting at the horizon ~ the mountains were black and
I could see some distant car go through some rough road.
With my eyes, I followed the lights and wondered ~ Where do they go? ~
Maybe, just maybe, they will come to me.  But the next moment,
That reverie is broken by the present, by the harsh reality ~ the war;
Children dying, mothers crying, fathers fighting ~ all the injustice.
And I see the fire swallowing the houses and helpless people
Running around, and I hear the shouts.  I see them fall.  I hear their
Screams.  I cannot move.  My eyes hold only red ~
Streets covered with blood.  I smell the smoke of fiery machines.
On the street, a young soldier with his arms and legs cut off ~
Seventeen years old ~
His mother silently weeping over his torn body.
Her tears mix with his blood ~ shed for nothing ~ her sobs break the sound of the
Rain falling.  The wind blows her wet shawl.  She doesn’t notice.  She doesn’t care.
I stand in the distance and watch.
I wish it never was.

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