D. (dalaruan) wrote,
D.
dalaruan

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
Subscribe

  • as the gentle rain from heaven

    1947 young writer Truman Capote had the opportunity to visit one of his admired idols, the legendary French author Colette: Shyness, nerves, I…

  • e come spesso indarno si sospira

    "A slow sadness took hold of us. Our lot was exile. Our city was far away, our books, our friends, the shifting ups and downs of a real…

  • happy go lightly

    Holly stepped out of the car; she took the cat with her. Cradling him, she scratched his head and asked, What do you think? This ought to be the…

  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 3 comments