All We Cannot Save

The last gun shot. The last bang that ended a life. It was over finally over. Treaties were signed and it was… Just over… After the long awaited hope of peace had slowly faded away it was over. 6 years of fear, destruction, pain, worry, and hope. Just a little hope. 70+ million people all gone for this. And for what. For what great thing or reason did we kill? A perfect world? No, because people are imperfect. Everyone is imperfect. Millions of lives ended for nothing…. What was left anyways? Nothing. Just rubble and pain. They talk of peace yet will there ever actually be peace in the world. There was only emptiness left they had taken, destroyed, killed it- ALL OF IT.

Everything was gone. Whole families disappeared, yet people still celebrated in the streets crying in each others arms. It was strange. They had lost every reason to live. Nothing was left for them homes, family, friends, so why were they all happy? One answer, one word… Hope. Even here now. Tired, old, and beaten down, yet they glowed. Like they had finally been relieved of everything holding them down. Like a bird whose wings have been clipped finally flying. They were all flying. They huddled together crying in what was left of there family and friends. They survived for the others. They lived and continued for all those who were swallowed in the silence. They had slipped just beyond reach and so close to they end.

Where did they all go? Did they smile down from above? Cry in some darkness? Where did they all go? All vanished in the mist. Maybe just- maybe they would return…

᯽ ᯽ 𑁍 ᯽ ᯽

The cry of a bird broke my thoughts. Tears of joy streaming down my cheeks as I hugged those around me. People ran out of the broken monstrous structures we called home. The wind whipped my hair into my face sticking to my tears. My mother sat in disbelief. After so long it was finally over. Although the town was blown to pieces by bombs. Nobody cared anymore. We didn’t have to fear anymore of being threatened by German soldiers. The air hinted at autumn with all its colors and if you listened hard enough you could hear the whispers of snow on the breeze. The ground felt jagged beneath me after all the bombs had destroyed my home, my town. Saint-Lô wasn’t a town anymore we were just the people who lived in its ruins. Reaching into my pocket I grabbed my most treasured item. A gold locket and a crisp sheet of paper with tiny scribbles of poetry. Taking a piece of charcoal I had shaped into a makeshift pencil I started.

The tears of my joy

The cry’s and shouts

A precious piece of paper

And a war so devote

The ruins of my home

The smile of my mouth-

Wiping my tears I wandered off to the remains of the fields. My shoes were old and about two sizes to small. The soles had been worn out providing almost no protection against the sharp angles of the half buried debris. Carefully I wandered through the remains of old houses blown to pieces. Anything of use having already been taken from its wreckage. The broken leg of a chair stuck up from a top the pile of rubble. Smiling sadly I remembered the great house it had once been, a beige color with a brown wind frames and shutters and a great big door, all dark and beautiful. An old couple had once lived there… All sweet and kind yet they were carried off to the camps for saving a Jew. I could almost smell the cookies the dear old lady made, but I was brought back to reality with the smell of dust and rotting wood. Maybe they would come back and rebuild their great big house. They would come home and she would make cookies again for all the children while her husband sat on the porch with a smile. I knew it was a foolish though yet it set my nerves and sadness to ease for the moment. The clouds finally broke overhead leaving the sunshine to spill across the earth. Reaching the fields I could already see a plot of wild flowers budding on the side of a pile of upturned dirt and rubble. Even they knew the war was over and they could finally come out. All pink white and yellow. Even the wild flowers knew it was time to come home…

I plucked one from its stem and sniffed it’s pleasant sweet smell. Smiling I grabbed one of each. My mother would probably like to have some. We would decorate the whole house in wildflowers and once papa came home he would smile to see our flower house… We would eat together around the table again once papa came back from the Army and he wouldn’t have to be a commander anymore. I’d show him how much I helped mother. We would be together once again. Isaiah would return from the Air Force and he’d tell me stories. I kept this foolish dream alive because the war wouldn’t take this from me. Papa and Isaiah would be fine. I smiled once at my fantasy rubbing my dirty hands on my dress. I would go to school again Me and my friends would talk about all that we’ve missed since our last meeting. We’d hug and laugh gossip about the boys and all go back to normal. If only anything could be normal again.

Papa promised he’d return so he had to. The town would have festivals again. We’d dance and laugh. I would wear pretty clean dresses again. Squeezing the locket in my skirt I took a breath. The air for just a moment spelled new and natural. Not metallic or dusty. Just clean. I heard the calls of mother looking for me. I paused for a second before answering the call. I hurriedly took the piece of paper out of my pocket and my makeshift pencil. Quickly I scribbled down…

Even the wildflowers know

The breeze changing

And the sky opening

And yet the still

The still of the world-

We’ll be home

We’ll all be home…

Soon.

Bald werden wir alle wieder zuhause sein, kein Krieg mehr, kein Kampf mehr, nur wir, nur Familie.

(Soon we’ll all be home together, no more war, no more fighting, just us, just family.)