1943

She was 16 when she died.

I know, because for a moment, I held all the trouble

of her life in my arms.

 

I know because I was 16 as well

and I held her head on my lap

the whole way.

 

I listened as she told me how she would

give everything she could to

be home again.

 

She was a dancer and as we passed

though the wild lowland

I imagined her dancing

 

on that barren land. I stroked her

ashen hair softly as the wind bellowed

against our skin.

 

The silence was gravely, terror seeping

through the pores petrifying the broken hearts

of the little cattle carrier.

 

And she cried. She cried until no more tears

forced their way out of her eyes and no more

whimpers choked her.

 

She fell silent and I knew each heartbeat could

be her last and I dreaded the moment I would

no longer feel her breath.

 

And she came down with a whisper. Tiny hands

still grasping my collar and blue lips glossed over

with an apology for things she never did wrong

 

and I hugged her body closer. All that she was

extinguished like a struggling hopeless flame

on a little cattle carrier.

 

I didn't let go until the moment we reached those

iron gates we've all feared when we forcibly parted

alike the way we actually met.

 

She was 16 when she died.

I know, because for a moment, I held all the trouble

of her life in my arms.

Reviews

[Penlady]

How young to hold such a burden.

[BLBrown]

Sad and emotional, I could feel the helplessness. Thanks.

[SuicidePact.]

wow

this was so amazing.

just wow

[Michael G.]

You put every reader into that place...
and without even really telling us about it, made us feel it and see it.

I agree with Sarbucks, I want more.
Thank you for the privilege of reading this.

[Divinity Sleeps in This]

It's time for you to write a novel or long story, you are there.

I liked this one, it had a very good plot.