Tomorrow's Voices
A Stream of Conciousness Poem on the Rigours of War
Listen to the voice of a child survivor of the rigours of war.
ποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈ
I woke up today and the sky was much quieter than it usually isβ
there wasnβt the hum of planes from the nearby airport,
just a breeze, soft as a treading ghost,
slipping through the hairline cracks of yesterdayβs walls.
Do you remember those walls? You put them up all over the place.
Concrete and metal legs stretching towards the sun,
but now the sun pushes back, now angry.
So we hide in the shadows of these legs,
wishing for the peace that never comes.
ποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈ
Grandad said the youngsters in his time didnβt listen,
that they fought over the most trivial thingsβ
sparred over
different skin,
different prayers,
different clothes.
Thereβs always time to save thingsβ
but all time does is take.
ποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈ
Grandad cries as we heal,
body and mind,whole and complete,
from the searing flesh of our bones.
The rawness of our scars.
Begs the dirt to forgive what he, and they, buried so hastily.
ποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈ
War has become a grim feature of our landscape.
We discovered that bullets buried young children,
before adults, still fighting, would later apologize.
Now we hang on to every life,
each a rare treasure,because they thought that people would always beβ
Wouldnβt they?
ποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈ
But I wonderβHow did a slide, not bombed, once look?
Was it colorfulβred, blue, yellowβcolors that once filled the sky
with their brilliance?
Were parks once filled with trees,
or were they empty
like they are nowβ
land burnt,
trees scarred,
swings charred?
ποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈ
The ghosts of children run by sometimes,
feet torn by shards of war,
little voices, a melancholic chorus in my ears.
They say you buried them,but I think they never really leftβ
not their forms, not their spirits,
not the way you forgot to love them when they were once here.
ποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈ
I breathe the dense air now,its heaviness a deadweight.
Maybe itβs better this wayβ
a world now whispering,
a world just waiting,
a world only hoping.
ποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈποΈ
But in time, we will remember their tusslesβ heavy costβ
people-filled streets, wrestling with time,
laughter-filled rooms, chorusing with joy,
love-filled homes, hands joined together.
About the Creator
Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin
Hi, i am an English Language teacher cum freelance writer with a taste for pets, prose and poetry. When I'm not writing my heart out, I'm playing with my three dogs, Zorra, Cloudy and Snowball.
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Comments (6)
This is so heartwrenching. This carry a very powerful/ important message. Amazing job.
lovely and brilliant
Wow. You capture war in the eyes of a child so well... it's sad that in 2024 we still haven't found a better way to solve problems.π
Heartbreaking!!! Terrific stream of consciouness poem!!!β₯β₯β₯
"But I wonderβHow did a slide, not bombed, once look?" That line broke my heart so much! π₯Ίπ₯Ί
Interesting. I've never thought about that sense of culpability for war, who might carry it in quite that way.