Haunted Childhood
Cold? I’ve been living
homeless in the cold long long time ago until I no longer feel the cold, hunger
or thirst, the fear has stolen me!
How terrible is it to be born
an innocent child with unborn dreams who were already fated to death, to grow up
in rubbles and ashes, to be raised in war’s grace. Like a lonely shore I do
feel, keeps slowly on crumbling facing an angry huge ocean. I have no father to
have my back, nor a friend to keep my secrets. Only a memory of loud screams and bloody bodies, and a thin pale skin with tens of scars remaining how terrify
was yesterday!
A part of me dies everytime I see my mother
eyes; this little combination of darkness that torment has left in them and a
certain brightness of hope that her missing son will someday come back home…
Home, Where is home?
Today feels a little
“peaceful” though. At least I woke up to a little sunshine and a bird singing
instead of bombs exploding in these dark skies; I wonder what would bring a
beautiful creature to such a disastrous land? Maybe I should just set my mind free
as the wind blows and live in the moment. This blessing that Lord sent to a
surviving orphan is surely something I shall not miss. Here I am again smiling
at what’s beyond the horizon, praying for these bleeding wounds to heal, for
these rivers of melancholy to dry, and for this War to come to an end.
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