Small particles of near-frozen water,
Stark white against espresso brown,
Drifting down upon the abandoned forest.
Trees stretch high,
A haven for small animals
Who have survived the growing solitude.
I shouldn’t be outside
But the soft sound of snowflakes
On trampled grass, now dead,
Leaves me wishing I could play
Here in this
Frozen wasteland where a beautiful city
Once stood.
I’m fortunate to have shoes,
So I can play outside,
Unlike my brothers and sisters,
The ones who are left.
A patch of blood red catches my eye,
I can see the shape of someone in a uniform.
Is it a soldier?
My brain tells me to go back,
Sneak back to the cellar;
But my heart,
Tells me to go forward.
I step closer, eyes wide,
But my look softens when I see
No signs of life coming from him.
He looks frozen,
A concrete statue left behind.
Baba said that when someone
Doesn’t breathe anymore,
They’ve gone to a special place
And we should close their eyes
So they can rest.
The soldier’s got big mahogany eyes
Just like mine.
Wide open, staring at
The trees above him
Just like I had done
Moments before.
He’s still sort of warm,
The soldier
But not breathing.
Baba’s voice echoes in my head,
So I slip my fingers down
And shift his eyelids over his eyes,
The soldier
Covering his coffee-colored orbs
From the world.
He’s in the special place now.
The soldier
He deserves his rest.
Words by Laone Coop
Photo by Hayley Owens