In the memory of war-survivors all around the world!
His warring nation dwelled in the constant fear of death. Each bomb dropped from fighter planes and each bullet fired from machine guns came with a vicious invitation. Like every other family, they were also waiting for the cruel knock of death. And it had finally come in the middle of the night after he was tucked into his bed. He only remembered the sleep taking him over and the next moment he was thrown away. No bed! No home! No family!
The boy crammed in the dark corner. Hiding away from the chaos! Saving him from the destruction! His torn sweater and not so blue rug was the only shelter he had which offered him warmth during the coldest night of the year. He closed his bloodshot eyes as he tried to calm his racing heart. His breath came back to him so did the reality and the very recent memory of demolition.
He had settled in this dark corner. Wrapped himself in his rug, he came face to face with the reality. He had just lost everything. He was all alone in this chaos with no one to hold on to. Aloneness came with its own demons. Isolation. Fear. Vulnerability. A stab of pain went through his heart. He wanted his mother to console him. He remembered his smiling face wishing him good night.
He stood up with trembling legs. His eyes searching for something in smoke and dust. For the next 2 hours, he strolled around gathering weird things and painting the blackened wall. As he finished his work of art remaining strength left his body. “Mommy”, he let out a muffled cry and collapsed on the floor. The terrifying sounds of machines did not disturb him.
The morning arose with a silence. The only movement was the marching of soldiers who were looking for a sign of life remaining in this cemetery. They found a painting of a smiling woman. Carved out of black soot that covered the wall. Below the painting was a small bundle of a once-blue rug. Stirring and heaving! The sole survivor of the massacre.