I had a doll that once was broken
Its eyes refused to blink.
Shake it as I might, it wouldn't open,
Its arms were twisted, and by its chest, a ghastly sink.
I screamed and screamed for my doll to answer,
But I only heard a garbled sound
As my doll's batteries bled acid water,
Rusty red seeping underground.
I miss you.
When you were here,
We used to share so many secrets.
Now I whisper to the wind,
Pouring my heart out,
And I imagine
That somewhere you are listening,
That somehow you are feeling,
And that you aren't as cold and unmoving as your headstone.
Still, it does not escape me
That you have a headstone and I have the tranquility
To sit and reminisce and grieve quietly.
It does not escape me
That even this drop of water is buckets more
Than that accorded to victims of war.
I've heard people talk about the devastation of war,
I haven't lived through one.
I've never seen missiles
Flying in the sky above children.
I never woke up to the sight of thousands
Fleeing
Like Lot and his children,
Running from the sound of sirens
Ringing out in warning
That brimstone and fire was coming
And that those who stayed
May be turned into pillars of salt
Or sown into the Earth like salt
In a landscape made desolate
By those who sit
Far removed from the chess pieces they play with.
I didn't see war,
And still my mind is a minefield
that detonates every single day
When I relive the way you looked-
Eyes unblinking,
Chest compressing,
Voice gurgling,
Rusty acid battery water leaking,
Soaking into the thirsty ground
So that the next morning,
Once green leaves could turn red faces to the sun.
You always said I had a wild imagination,
But even I never imagined that you would one day
Fall victim to the sociopathic intruder
Who came with firecrackers,
Their rat-tat-tat
Exploding all over you.
Even I, who could imagine most anything,I had no clue.
I've been broken by crime,
But I have never been suffocated by war.
And in my pain, I felt like my plate was piled
With more than I could suffer.
So how gut wrenching it must be
For those who must see
their world-
Schools, universities,
Entire communities
Eradicated by an egotistic pen
dancing the tango on decrees
And turning people into casualties
In a war they never asked for.
I've seen one broken doll,
There are those who have seen legion.
And while I sit on your headstone and weep for you,
I know that those locked in war cannot even grieve as I do.
Instead, they have become tailors and seamstresses,
Specializing in mending broken spirits
As they stitch themselves together every day.
I haven't seen war, but I know what I must do,
And I try now everyday to push past the pain
And cultivate loving memories of you.
For the time will come when those who see war today must pause
And feel,
Pain becoming a part of the process for them to heal.
And when they do,
We who do not see war
Must extend a shoulder
For our friends to lean on
As they recover
From the devastation they suffered
Standing on the frontline
Of their war for freedom.
