She remember that famous night,
whenever she close her eyes.
The words of her father ring in her ears,
words that kill all affections,all cares.
She was eleven when,she began to see clearer,
to understand the words of her father.
She spent her days counting the tears of her mother,
and trying to love her father.
She would stay awake,when you would dream,
thinking how to end the war.
When sleep conquered her,she would dream of another home.
In the silence of the dark night,when her father finished
his usual task,she used to hear the silent cry,
the silent prayer of her mother.
Her call for freedom and joy.
She would hear her mother’s tears touch the ground.
She was her mother’s strength,the reason of her patience.
Born poor,grown alone,her mother imagine a happily ever after with her father.
But fairy tales exist only in dreams.
Helpless,she layed her life infront of him.
One night came and the cries stopped,the war ended.
She ran to the warzone and found her mother
in a lake of blood and her father lost in his ocean of alcohol.
She fell beside her,placed her head on her bloody womb,
and allowed the pain to flow.
As she hear her mother breathing her last,she whispered,
“Don’t go mama.”
