I am that child, we are those children.
The leaflets came from above, they dropped at our feet, with my curiosity at such a young age. I was eager but could barely read. The enemy’s language was confusing how could an enemy who had inflicted so much pain talk of love yet in the next breath scream of death.
I was caught off guard and unguarded, when darkness took over fully, they snakelike and silently avoided the tripwires and carefully laid prayer mines, covered my mouth and carried me stealthily out of my camp, I was too terrified, to either kick or scream. For some time I was surrounded by evil, to look into a man’s eyes and to have seen what my eyes have seen to have seen what my eyes have seen to have been where I have been to stare Evil in the face to look back at me whilst all along smiling haunts me even now, but at the time I remember he breathed the breathe of cigarettes and slime, it is but a blink in time, now but the pain it lasted past my fears and tears at that point, to this point it went on for years.
I prayed to the god of my mother a god whose angels would be sent from heaven they would surely strike with the sword, watch over me and keep me safe, my prayers, my wails were left seemingly unanswered, my cheeks became dry after time my scars became braille to me alone.
I lost faith in the god of my mother and I set fire to my soul, I self-destructed. Created a world of suffering, a world whose foundations were built on fear whose walls topped with electric razor wire, kept out everyone I ever loved and everyone who claimed love for me, it became unacceptable for love to exist became my own king, I answered to nobody because there was no one left to answer to, and with my empire of nothingness I surveyed all that did not have and told myself it was good.
Strangely enough I kept praying to my god, whom knew for sure never was and with anger thanked him for never being.
35 years or so passed and still haunted my choice to give up came quickly and without much thought, the scars on my throat will stay as a reminder to me of the night I begged my illusion god to take me, and of course yet again I was totally ignored, I awoke the next morning covered in blood, something inside me had shifted.
Suddenly all my enemies were laid at my feet, and in the pain of my past my future was made present.
I prayed to my god who had always been, I thanked him for always being and I thanked him for always being and I thanked him for answering my prayer on that first night I was taken, I had prayed for the pain to stop and for the love I once had to return.
The Pain has now stopped.
Love has now returned.
Materialistically I have nothing, my kingdom is laid bare, but what I do have I will carry in a rucksack on my back. I have a secret I am now able to share with you, my journey has just begun and at this moment as you read this my journey is always just beginning.
No one ever called me a survivor before I wear no medals for bravery, yet I am brave, and that little boy left alone untrained in battle fought such a brave fight, I am proud of him of us, although we are one I created two of us to share the burden, it may sound odd, but it’s what I did, I did whatever I had to do survive, and now as I tell this story I am proud to be a survivor who has hope now, who has a reason now, to take that next step and I thank god for that, For my scars, for the pain, for the wisdom I have gained, you will see I will rebuild my empire, but firstly, I will knock down every wall that I built to hide behind every fortified bunker I shall remove I will face every moment without the need for camouflaged reply, without the fear of what lurks behind the eyes of the man who smiles back at me, My steps at first although slow and steady, will eventually find their own pace, and with rucksack on my back I shall look up to the heavens thank my loving god and at last I shall live.
The battle of course is still being fought the leaflets still fall the pain and the prayers still exist for that child, the enemy is out there, usually perfectly blended into the background.
To be called a survivor makes the assumption that my war is over. My war is never over as you read this now, my journey is just beginning it is always just beginning.
For that child who suffers I will never stop fighting you see, I am that child, we are those children.
We are survivors, who never give up.