That blue truck over there was my little brothers. He used to play with it all the time; they were inseparable. That yellow scarf over there was my mothers. She would spend a long time perfecting it over her head. That doll over there was my sisters. She used to dress it up in the most awkward dresses she personally made for it. That brown bag over there, yes that was my Dad’s. He would take it to work everyday trying to build us a better future. All these memories make me smile. Yet her I am, the stone that was on our roof right next to my foot. My family gone forever. My feet bare and swollen. I lift my hands and see scars all over, dirt lining all the cracks. The smell of rubble fills my lungs and I cough. I cough and the stream of tears start coming. It hurts.
But is that dress black and blue or gold and white?
All these children around me, everyone’s sleeping. The floor is hard and ice cold. Tomorrow they’ll probably make us shoot more innocent people. The look on their eyes when we approach. The fear, the terror. Their worst nightmare, a reality.Yet we do as we are told. We are no children, although most of us are not older than 10 years old, we are machines. The child next to me shakes, It’s okay child, it’s not your fault. We can and we will find a way out. We will do this. A tear trickles down my cheek and all I can think is “I will make it”.
But that dress, is it black and blue or gold and white?
I believe in God, I swear I do. God is my only saviour, yet I shall not speak His name. I shall not speak of Him at all. The slightest mention and my whole family will be gone. We will be dead. So instead I sit in bed everyday praying, I stand on the street praying, I eat praying. But nothing shows, everything from inside. I’m sorry God but I can’t praise you out loud, I can’t do anything. I live in fear of being discovered. I live in total and immense fear of slipping. So instead, I walk the line. I think of whispering your name, but that fades into my fearful heart nevertheless. I slip off the line but quickly regain my balance. Continuing my journey on and across it until another of such encounters takes place. I can’t kill my parents, I can’t be the cause of such things. I love you God, just not out loud.
Blue and Black or Gold and White?
Children around the world live in constant battle for their precious lives. They live without much, without anything. Yet all we care about these days and all what the buzz is about is that god damned dress. It doesn’t matter what colour you see the dress as. It’s just a dress, these children though, they have souls. They breathe and they have potential. We need to help them and stop running around our useless circles. We need to wake up. We need to see.