ACME
30-12-2010, 08:19 PM
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Night held me close and perhaps I dreamed. Was I dreaming? It should have been a dream– and yet– it was so real! I awakened to the sobbing of children, frightened and lonely children. The bedclothes held me like a lover’s arms as I struggled to free myself, and the floor was icy cold against my bare feet.
I stumbled toward the little balcony off the living room and, blinking, I turned on the outside light. The sobs died to whimpers. Without knowing to whom I was speaking, I murmured, “It’s all right, don’t cry, I’m here.” Voices surrounded me, choked with tears. “Please, take me home, I am so frightened! “
My balcony is green with plants; the silken petals of the cyclamen flowers glowed pink and red, like so many midnight butterflies. That afternoon I had found a handsome pansy geranium, dark red buds, lightly serrated leaves, and set it in place of honor. How strange! It was the geranium that wept.
Gently I caressed the leaves, stroked the dark pink flowers with their magenta throats, like little faces. “You are here with me now, you are safe!” I whispered. “No, no,” the small voices insisted, “I am so frightened, please take me home!” “Home? Where is ‘home?’” I asked, but only muted sobs answered me, then silence.
Our lives are filled with lies, senseless murders, the hunger of innocent children, cruelty, injustice, mockery. We are all afraid. Where is home, I ask myself. when we live in a world where even the flowers wake in the night weeping in fear and sorrow?.
Chosen By Sirhasan
.
Night held me close and perhaps I dreamed. Was I dreaming? It should have been a dream– and yet– it was so real! I awakened to the sobbing of children, frightened and lonely children. The bedclothes held me like a lover’s arms as I struggled to free myself, and the floor was icy cold against my bare feet.
I stumbled toward the little balcony off the living room and, blinking, I turned on the outside light. The sobs died to whimpers. Without knowing to whom I was speaking, I murmured, “It’s all right, don’t cry, I’m here.” Voices surrounded me, choked with tears. “Please, take me home, I am so frightened! “
My balcony is green with plants; the silken petals of the cyclamen flowers glowed pink and red, like so many midnight butterflies. That afternoon I had found a handsome pansy geranium, dark red buds, lightly serrated leaves, and set it in place of honor. How strange! It was the geranium that wept.
Gently I caressed the leaves, stroked the dark pink flowers with their magenta throats, like little faces. “You are here with me now, you are safe!” I whispered. “No, no,” the small voices insisted, “I am so frightened, please take me home!” “Home? Where is ‘home?’” I asked, but only muted sobs answered me, then silence.
Our lives are filled with lies, senseless murders, the hunger of innocent children, cruelty, injustice, mockery. We are all afraid. Where is home, I ask myself. when we live in a world where even the flowers wake in the night weeping in fear and sorrow?.
Chosen By Sirhasan
.