“3 .. 2 .. 1 .. Clear!”
Life ended the second it began,
The child grew with the guilt of the loss;
How selfish he felt
When they told him because he came,
Every time he tried to sleep,
It haunted him until it was time to wake.
The cries of his mother blended in his,
Couldn’t distinguish which is which.
To mourn or to celebrate?
To kiss goodbye or hug hello?
The father was lost ‘twixt
Two opposite worlds:
A thin line between life and death,
Happiness and grief.
He held a life in a hand and sailed another with tears,
He tried to find a way
To escape that endless horizon which adopted his existence:
Mountains seemed to ‘wall’ between freedom and self-imprisonment.
It was to time to run away for both of them:
The father hit by a bus,
The son aged and slept his last temporal death
By the tomb which carried his mother
Like the womb it once carried him.