The Father or the Son
I was a happy child with a dad, a mother, and some other happy faces. I could smile; I could laugh; I could do the silly things, and make my parents proud. I was lost and felt safe at the same time. They used to love; they used to care about that time. But as the war began, our lives turned black. Love was gone, and I started to realize, realize that the mask is gone. People started to cry; people started to act. Killing all around. I was so scared when I heard the first gun shot. My Father was there, blood pouring on the ground. My sister’s face turned to gray; my mother screamed like the thunder of a rainy night, and I died; I saw the lights. I opened my eyes again and again, and I was still alive. After all that, seeing his son alive on the ground, made his tears fall and fall on the face of my father. A bleeding body on the ground, and my father was gone. A body without a soul he became. A soul with faith he flew. My Mother said that he is there just close your eyes. So, I closed my eyes to ignore my fake life; I closed my eyes to be alone tonight; I closed my eyes to be with my father. A missing child I became. “Dad, where are you?” I screamed, but no one is there, only the shadow of the nights. “I need you Dad!” I repeated, but my father is gone. I cried, and no one knew why. I see my Mom smiling, so her children can forget, but she couldn’t act very well. I saw your bloody tears mother, and your husband is gone. Am I the only one who can feel? Or it is fine to act all your life. Why am I locked, and I can’t hold your back Mother? Is it me who killed Dad? Or is it the lonely nights. I am lost because of a scary night. I saw a body on the ground, and I can’t remember now. I can go through walls now. Is it just me? Mother, I am flowing. Father can you hear me? Sister you were right this is what I wanted to be, but seeing a family like mine being parried after the years of my death, the death of the son!
By: Mahmmod Shkur