A Too Familiar Story to Remember
(Image source: publicdomainspictures.net)
They lived in the same house on an island of history.
It was just about the same feeling of being out in the sea.
Normal days preceded and succeeded days with storms and rough waves. When it was calm, everything was blue.
During the night, they knew all the darkness of the world.
They clung to each other, despising it.
There was no lifeboat, no escape, but a canoe that looked like death. The holes in the canoe could swallow the entire sea.
“I shall swim away one day, I shall take the canoe to another shore,” they would think, each of them, not once but for many galactic years.
They never knew there were millions of islands in the sea like theirs.
The daily drudgery of life was a breath of fresh air. The lively sheep, the scent of corn, and decadence- the right distraction to stop them from killing each other the next moment.
Fishing in shallow waters, they dreamed of a day when a guest arrived.
A stranger sent by the sea.
In misty mornings, they thought they saw him walking over the waters.
They still believed in hope and heaven.
The only difference was that they hoped in opposite directions and separate heavens.
I have heard they are building a fence in the middle of the island.
It is said that the sheep pens are on the right side of the fence and the freshwater well on the other side.
It is said weapons are ready on both sides, flags are hoisted, a war cry is sounded, and a tiny bird is assigned to sing praises of sacrifice and heroism. (Not that it would matter in the end).
There will be a war, another war, and another one. Then there will be calm.
The sea alone will be the witness that there were two people on that island, and they loved and fought.
Comments
Post a Comment