It was 2 months ago when my parents, three sisters and I were taken from our home. They stormed into our house breaking anything that got in their way. It was 3:34 in the morning; Papa had just gotten up to go to work. Papa worked many different jobs to keep food on the table for Mama and us. This particular morning, Papa was working for the post, delivering papers and packages. Mama woke when she heard the sound of heavy footsteps walking up towards the cradle of little Annie. Annie let out a few tiny cries before the man silenced her vocal cords with a firm hand around the neck. Mama walked over to Annie’s cradle not seeing the man in shadow beside it, lifting her up only to realize that baby Annie had already taken her last breath. At the sight of the man, Mama ran to my room and woke me, immediately hiding me under the sink in the bathroom cabinet. Not having a single clue to what was going on except the screams of Mama and the mangled body of little Annie in Mama’s hands, I peered through the crack between the cabinet doors trying to not let Mama out of my sight. Then a man walked in the room ripping Annie from Mama, only to throw her on the floor. The man yelled at Mama, telling her that Annie was dead and she would soon join her with Papa. Watching Mama with the same eyes that had watched her bake pumpkin bread earlier that day, not understanding why this man was hurting her. I tried not to cry, but nun the less tears came out creating a puddle on the floor of the wooden box I sat in. Another man came in, dragging Papa on the carpet behind him, leaving footprints in the beige color consisting of blood and tar. Then followed 3 more men, two of which had bound my sisters and carried them in over their shoulders. One by one my family disappeared into big black bags. I whimpered, and was quick to cover my mouth to quiet it when I realized that a sound had come out. The man began to walk toward the bathroom, peering in; he rapidly flung open the shower curtain. He turned to walk out but then stopped and instead turned to the sink cabinet. I backed up, clenching my eyes tight together as he reached down to grab the handle he opened the door, pulling me out he covered my head with a black bag just as he had done to the rest of my family. The bag was longer on me than it was on the rest of them it hung just below my knees. They carried us out setting us inside huge wooden crates, train cars. Once the train started moving, I cried out for Mama and Papa. No answer. Constantly waiting for the next silence from no response.
I still don’t know what happened or what is still happening, and why these men have done this. All they have given me is this darkness that surrounds me and the cold that befalls me. But if even I can’t put words or even thoughts to what they have done, than maybe they do not understand what they are doing. Maybe they too have big black bags covering their eyes, blinding them to every action they do and every harsh word they say. Maybe they too lay here in silence.


Tag der Veröffentlichung: 18.05.2011

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To a little girl who wasn't strong enough.

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