|He Never Came Home
Author: death-in-the-orchard PM
War. Her response.Rated: Fiction T - English - Tragedy/Angst - Words: 1,012 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 1 - Published: 10-10-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3064528
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
There is no neck to wrap my hands around. No place to tie the noose.
There is no single face, no pair of eyes…for me to claw out. …My talons…sharp…and waiting.
There is no body with a mouth I can fill with boiling water, until the lungs have been filled…filled and drowned… cooked by the heat. …My hatred…here. Boiling.
There is no one for me to destroy with the power of my rage…-my fury, my bitter, bitter hate that I would spit out as poison to avenge…to avenge… To mangle, kill, and destroy those- the one-! The-! But- But there is no one. No one at all for my pain to open. No one at all for my grief to drown, to flood the cavity my pain has gouged to reach the beating heart which I wish to clutch in my fist, to squeeze out the life, the love, the happiness that heart has ever experienced, to make it suffer and feel what I have suffered and felt, and then increase the agony, the grief and desolation, increase it and rake the soul with burning blades of justice-! Justice against something so vile, so twisted, so evil and dark, inhuman and unfeeling - numb to the core. Oh, if only I could make that numbed flesh feel!
But there is no body, no face, no heart or lungs – a space of nothing that no feeling can touch! I have nothing that can destroy something that has lived within the makeup of each and every human figure - since the day one man sharpened a rock and used it to slit another man's throat. …Even I feel it. Burning deep in my chest, a burning heat that sits beside my heart - at my center, my core, my own soul. Burning flames of hellfire – I am. To destroy war I would wage war, to mangle, kill, and destroy those- THOSE-!
But there is no one body for my nails to rend, to shred into tattered ribbons - bleeding flesh! War has no body! I cannot kill it! I would! I would! -If only God would give War a mortal body and I the tools to teach it mercy, teach it mercy by making it beg and weep and wail for mercy-! Yes! War itself! Beg me to kill you! And I shall laugh! Joyful! Joyful, I shall laugh! And you will scream! MERCY! Yes! To ME!
-Oh! Let me find the heart of War! And let me pierce it! Pierce it through!
Let me pierce it with all of the pain and misery - the hatred of the human race - every wound the ancient dead and the newborn living have received! From War! I would kill! I would destroy! I would break and shatter and scream - scream, scream until my body split in half and my own blood would rush forth and cover the carcass my hands still strangled! Let me scream and let me force War to wear a crimson veil! So that all may see its sins and evils, wickedness and woe, the seeds of sorrow it shot into the earth with a smoking gun! The savage planter! The harvester of death! A banquet of rotten flesh laid out and feasted upon over unmarked graves! The graves of husbands that will never return to hold their wives, to see the faces of their unborn or breathing children! The graves of lovers never wedded! The graves of countless sons-! –Of sons! SONS! My-! My-! Oh-!
Where is my baby? Where is my baby? Where is my baby? Where is my baby? Where is my baby? Where is my baby? Where is my baby? Where is my baby? Where is my baby? Where is my baby? Where is my baby? Where is my baby? Where is my baby? Where is my baby? Where is my baby? Where is my baby? Where is my baby? Where is my baby? Where is my baby? Where is my baby?
What has happened to my baby? What has happened to my baby? What has happened to my baby? What has happened to my baby? What has happened to my baby? What has happened to my baby? What has happened to my baby? What has happened to my baby? What has happened to my baby? What has happened to my baby? What has happened to my baby? What has happened to my baby?
Give me back my baby! Give him back! He needs his mother! He needs to be home! He needs to sleep in his bed! He needs to be held! -He must be held! He needs to come back- to come back- Come back!
To me! Give me my child! He is not yours! He is young! He is a baby! Oh! Give him back! Give me my baby!
I will burn this thing called War!
I will burn the slogans and paper-thin ideas!
I will rip open the belly of this War and reclaim my child!
MINE! My own-!
So where is he? Where is my baby? What has happened to him- where is he- what have you done with him- why did you take him- whereismybabywhereismybaby heiscryingheiscryingheiscryi ng for me- for me- heneedsmeheneedsmehe needs me- he is hurt and bleeding and- God! WHERE IS MY BABY? Please-Please just let me take him home! Let me have him! I need him- I need my baby- I need my baby to be alive!I am screaming, dying, pleading! Oh God-!
Give him to me!
Or, please…let me know where I can find his body!
His helpless soul…young…young soul…
Let me bury my baby so he won't be cold, so he won't remain lost, forever…wandering in a world that had no right to take him…away…farther away…from me… …from me… Please…
My baby…my son…
My sweet…sweet child…who I held…who I tucked…in my arms…so many times…
…my baby…who I hushed…hushed so softly…with a lullaby…
…sweet child…sweet child… ...My son.
Why did you die for people you did not know?