This is something that i had to do for an assignment about a year back for a project on the Book Thief.
I
All my brothers and I withering under one gray sky
The images are still seared into my eyes
I swear if you were to looked hard enough into the dark recesses of my pupils you could see them
The Horrors
The Nightmares
of the first foot on the cold uncaring ground marking the beginning of the battle
of revisiting that ground years later only to dig and dig among the many layers of past
foot prints till I found the ones I left eons ago
of killing my first and losing track after my tenth
of waking up in the morning smelling the sick stench of death on the horizon and knowing by midday it will have become so omnipresent that I will not smell it any longer
of naming my boots and shirts in desperation for companionship
of being injured in a white hot blast of pain and then being sent out into the wilderness once more only to trip
of dreams of Mothers and old loves
of reading the bible looking for answers, finding none and then realizing that I’m Catholic and that this is a Protestant bible
of the taste of the food I ate for the past 257 years
of the taste of no food
of the absences around the campfires
of looking at my pitifully wretched existence from the third person
of the innocents
of the guilty
of thinking of painting the streets of the city red for the glorious irony of it
of not recognizing uniforms or faces or even words, just shades of gray
of waking and finding myself looking at my own flesh and blood buried in a thin white sheet on a hospital bed in the middle of Russia a thousand miles from home… a hollow home now
of waking again three days later and seeing a worm riddled skeleton staring at me with those deep hollow eyes, just staring and pointing an excusing finger …
Turning into
Dust
II
Now everyone is a chalk white skeleton or a brooding specter
I can feel Death boring its gaze into my back
I can sense it in the shadows and in the faces of all I meet
And in the words I read and in the music I hear out of the corner of my ear
And in the mirrors, especially the mirrors
Maybe I should just turn around and grab death by the arm and shout “Take Me! Take me damn it! I have served you long enough. End it already!”
“But what about mother?” my left brain asks
“What about her!” my right brain responds, “You failed her too and now she’s been killed to some degree.”
“But if we went through with it she would be devastated beyond repair.”
“So, Look at her. She’s a husk of the mother we once knew. We have nothing left here. Nothing except the heavenly eye of Himmel Street and the fluorescent trails of a dead man dotting the town.”
III
Mama, remember me as I was before I left and never came back
Remember Robert and see us together in a special place in the heavens
Remember when we kissed your cheeks right before we said our goodbyes and stop right there
Remember the lullabies you sang to us as children and sing yourself to sleep if you can not stop staring at the ceiling
Mama, I want to tell you that I love you and that the blame is mine and mine alone for I was weak and probably still am
Mama, live on even if I gave up
Mama, do not feel guilty as I did, it only leads to clear hallucinations and foggy visions of hope and what might have been
Mama, if you wish bury me in the back of your head
where the sun
never shines
Mama, I would like to apologize because I’m sorry and also because I am really not
Mama, I just
Want to say
I love you
One last time
Mama, Mother,
Don’t
Pray
For
Me
