D. (dalaruan) wrote,

it's a dark road that leads to my house

War never left them

War was in every door my father left ajar
War was in every jet fighter he sensed from far distance
War was in every road traffic victim drenched in blood with dislocated extremities

War was in my mother's hoarding of food
War was in the sound of fireworks at New Year's Eve
War was in her hate of snow and winter's coldness

They never talked about it

About the war captivity. The routine of murder for a soldier in aerial warfare
About months on the trek during a winter with -32°C / -26°F, the front breathing down the neck
About the loss of home, about starving, killing, barbarity, chaos, downfall

the sign in the backround readsABFÄLLE = wastes- double click to enlarge -

They never talked about it and they never left it

Tags: ...and you my father, death, war

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