Cease Fire (from To Think I Ran)

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for Mohammad GHARAZIBAYIE, a child missing in action…

What sick malevolent fate had this ill-fated travel mate cross my rotten path ?
An evil fated fate ? An angry fate ? A hungry fate ? A bloodthirsty fate ? To what end ? To what avail ? A charcoal black designed destiny ? A blood red charcoal black picture ? All fire and steel stolen ?

Who stuck him right before my eyes for him only to be seen ? For my whole world to see ? Requiring demanding imposing attention ? Beckoning begging beseeching attention when the last thing I need was this disruption ? When the last thing I need was a roll call for comprehension and compassion… sympathy in this loveless world ? But comprehension of what ? Compassion for whom ? What could I do anyway with all this wasted time and efforts ?
What could I do for this too big child who would never stop playing little toy soldiers ?

Love was not what I could give him… and yet love was all I could give him…
Make of it what you will…

His nights were repeating the horror of the war. As a child he had been enrolled to fight for the motherland. He had left his mother’s warm arms to answer the call of this malevolent mistress… he had been given, come twelve, a machine gun to take to the front line…

He hadn’t learnt about life that he had to learn about death…

His moving in had led me to believe… had let me hope for his sake…
Infatuated… engrossed that I was with the redemption work I had taken on I could see myself fancy myself flag bearing illusions that everything would soon go back to normal… that he would be well again… that he was on the mend… and would be able to make it home soon…

His nights were filled with people with malevolent memories…
I was certain I would blow them away like the desert wind over the dunes… and a peaceful oasis would appear… I would chase his clouds away and the weather would clear… he would get those memories out off his head and the pain in his heart off his chest…

His dreams were full of commandos, battles, attacks, assaults, air raids, escapes…
The staccatoed rhythms of gunshots and explosions beat his nights in retreat… he would wake me up… I would run to his neighbouring bedroom to calm him… to comfort him… to reassure him… to beg him to forget… what could I do ?
Horror continued pouring its horror film behind his eyes… stalking him to the furthest reaches of its perverted episodes… would the cease fire ever ring out ?

His nights were becoming endless… history kept repeating… his nights were becoming mine and I couldn’t escape them… I couldn’t escape… I couldn’t help him… I couldn’t help him escape…
In his misfortune I could only stand at his side… by his side… time itself was turning itself into the killer…

Jesse CRAIGNOU

Continue Reading
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Think-Ran-Tribute-Nation-ebook/dp/B00DFKMTB0/ref=sr_1_68?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1506252138&sr=1-68&refinements=p_27%3AJesse+Craignou

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