Protected_Diamond
IB Expert
- Messages
- 1,569
- Reaction score
- 181
By Sister HA, Toronto, Canada, 13 March 2000
"Do not forget me.
I am the one with the empty looking eyes;
war torn; speechless; hard like steel,
but inside, like glass, I am shattered.
I have witnessed death.
It revealed its horrid face in the form of my mother,
father,
sister
and brother.
And with death, came destruction.
It left me a portrait of grief.
Where are you?
Can't you hear me?
My whole village represents loss;
filled with still-framed memories of the less fortunate ones,
whose spirits walk about aimlessly, waiting for a resting-place.
I am alive;
yet I stand alone in the middle of these makeshift graves,
amongst these mounting bones:
am I not also less fortunate?
Nevertheless, it is each man for himself;
remember me.
I am just a child.
If I depress you, please do not turn away.
Do not forget me;
note my haunting stare.
Let it pierce through your heart,
reminding you it could be your child.
Imagine.
When you look into your child's eyes,
see my eyes of emptiness staring back at you.
When you hear his or her cries,
hear my silence,
ringing louder and louder in your mind.
Cry me oceans,
lakes
and streams
and may your salty tears attempt to heal my eternal wounds;
provide me nourishment,
with your overburdening emotion.
I lost my voice when I lost everything.
Your endless determination speaks for me now.
All that I feel remains,
is a skeleton of who I was and who I am.
And if by chance I die tomorrow,
please do not forget me.
I am too, a (little) martyr.
I am the one with empty looking eyes;
war torn; speechless; hard like steel,
but inside, like glass, I am shattered."
I am the one with the empty looking eyes;
war torn; speechless; hard like steel,
but inside, like glass, I am shattered.
I have witnessed death.
It revealed its horrid face in the form of my mother,
father,
sister
and brother.
And with death, came destruction.
It left me a portrait of grief.
Where are you?
Can't you hear me?
My whole village represents loss;
filled with still-framed memories of the less fortunate ones,
whose spirits walk about aimlessly, waiting for a resting-place.
I am alive;
yet I stand alone in the middle of these makeshift graves,
amongst these mounting bones:
am I not also less fortunate?
Nevertheless, it is each man for himself;
remember me.
I am just a child.
If I depress you, please do not turn away.
Do not forget me;
note my haunting stare.
Let it pierce through your heart,
reminding you it could be your child.
Imagine.
When you look into your child's eyes,
see my eyes of emptiness staring back at you.
When you hear his or her cries,
hear my silence,
ringing louder and louder in your mind.
Cry me oceans,
lakes
and streams
and may your salty tears attempt to heal my eternal wounds;
provide me nourishment,
with your overburdening emotion.
I lost my voice when I lost everything.
Your endless determination speaks for me now.
All that I feel remains,
is a skeleton of who I was and who I am.
And if by chance I die tomorrow,
please do not forget me.
I am too, a (little) martyr.
I am the one with empty looking eyes;
war torn; speechless; hard like steel,
but inside, like glass, I am shattered."
