www.whyville.net Jan 22, 2012 Weekly Issue

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Memories Carved Beneath the Soul

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If the blue sky is composed of a pure lie, does this imply the black clouds represent the true colors of life? Will the red roses sprout once again and provide tranquility for the pained souls, or will the heavy burden continue to weigh them down? Are we held entirely responsible for this act of hatred, or was this terrible history simply carved into a sacred book? How will I bear looking into their pleading eyes, only to realize our positions could've, and should've, been reversed? Remembering has caused something irreplaceable in this heart to wither away.

I feel myself suffocating as I stare weak-eyed at the blood-stained walls I called home. These walls marked the birth of my sisters, the tears spent worrying my father shall never return from a bloody battle, the invisible voice that would serenade, and every smile I dared release. The sweet scent of tulips framing my front yard is now replaced with the unmistakable stench of death that haunts my every nightmare. Does the shriek of fear pierce you as much as staring at the graves of my old friends shatters everything I've worked so hard to stabilize? The loud sound of bombs killing off happiness used to be my wake-up call for a year, yet it seemed like eternity. The vicious pain war has imprinted out-shadows the pride of my culture, and everything I adored as a child.

Were you ever forced to endure the stab of pain when realizing almost every person you've shared your past with lies in the bottom of a grave? The remorse devours you, chews you viciously and spits you back out just in time for you to watch another neighbor being killed. The place I loved to no limits, the place I called home, now lies in ruins. I've reached the end of this devastating road, and all sense of control I ever owned has been lost in the dust and non-existent roses. The faith that belonged to this body is rotting in the dirt along with my helpless friends. Why does this heart-burning hangover refuse to pass? I was always aware I'm not built to last, but now I'm in ruins.

I'm dying to erase this horror from my irresponsive mind, and to forge a fake fairytale in my veins. Why am I incapable of simply releasing this memory into the mellow breeze of an autumn day? I simply desire to escape from the chains that lock me up, and venture as far away from here as possible. To escape this horror, this reality, the world, and the mind that encases me in this life is my greatest desire. Why must I hear the frightened cry of children as a terrible fate devours them?

I'm dying to become capable of forgiving, forgetting, and comprehending. Why am I enabled to smile as they watch their mothers and fathers being killed before their very eyes? How does murdering innocent children with potential bring peace upon us? Please, lay down your arms for the friends you lost, the families you've killed and all the people that war has traumatized. Just end this war, end this lie, end this generation of kill. For if war is what this world considers peace, I'd rather die in vain.

Author's note: Please be aware that I am, in no way, attempting to point fingers. I've had to suffer the trauma of having my country attacked, and years later, when I brainwashed myself into almost forgetting, I've had to witness my father fighting in the army. Being on either side of the rope is extremely difficult and my heart goes out to all of you who have had an experience with war.


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