After the war

Blown-out windows, splintered wood and shattered glass. This is what remained of the hopes and dreams of a community once filled with promise, charged with the calls of freedom, and so close they had come. So close only to fall prey to what so many had before, all had before.

'I know the way, follow me', were the calls but down which path did the voices lead no one questioned, the spirit of togetherness made them blind to the threats that would soon rip them apart at the seams, and burn what was left of the tattered fabric.

The battle raged, both sides claiming freedom on their side, both correct yet hopelessly flawed. The freedom to destroy never tempered by the freedom to build. How could it be when those who had been helped over the walls chose not to reach down to those who carried their weight.

To be free on the outside is to be caged from what is within and what is within is a part of who all were, from where all came. The failure to join hands resulted in the floodgates remaining closed and the trickle to escape never turned back to see.

They made their break to evade capture from what they feared the most, the enemy of which there was no escape. In their haste they did not recognise the enemy was themselves.

Torn from inside to out, outside to in, the conflict continued unabated as they fought against shadows cast by the light and reflected in mirrors of their own faces. The blood from their heart was tasted on lip and burned within the eyes of all, the flames they warmed upon the burning flesh of the vanquished.

As the dust settled and the sun rose, what was once was now no more, the dreams had disappeared in the smoke of the smouldering ashes. A paradise was promised, a haven for the weary, downtrodden and the deserving but as each gained slightest advantage, all wanted just a little bit more.

Soon, the cycle began anew as it had a thousand times before. This is what happens after the war.

Taraz
[ a Steemit original ]