(Inspired by the children I met in Jaffna. Follows after the poem Until it Snows)
I love the quiet. I love the pure, white finish of funeral shrouds. My world is troubled and noisy. My world is dusty, dirty and very dull since the guns began to fire. It leaves me longing for the silence of death.
Until the guns are silent.
I long for the peace that death brings. The thought of it helps me think about peaceful things. Like the way we used to laugh and play. My world is not peaceful.
Until the guns are silent.
I loath the memories the guns bring to mind. I cannot see the joy of Christmas in the things falling from the sky. I cannot hear the songs for my crying drowns it out. I cannot see the beauty in the piling up of dead. My world needs joy and laughter. It lacks so much.
Until the guns are silent.
I see the contrast blood brings. We are bathed in it, bombarded from all sides with flashing, brilliant, sparkling lights. Black, white, brown, gray and blood red limit us. My world is overwhelming.
Until the guns are silent.
I love the "slow" that death brings. My life is harried, rushed and moving too fast through check points and queues outside the grocery store, behind the barbed wire and the bars.
Until the guns are silent.
I take nothing for granted. I have no hope of losing myself in having too many choices. I only want another day of life in peace. I only want not to be afraid. I only want to be able to smile. I want to know my father and mother. But I can't
Until the guns are silent.
17th Dec '07 (10.56am)
