Archive for the ‘Arina’ Category

They look so happy

in the old photographs.

Life was good,

life was fun,

perhaps.

They look so beautiful,

innocent

and sweet,

in the old photographs,

historically important,

preserved for posterity,

perspectives,

black and white,

gray and sepia.

Who knows

what they were really thinking?

Still…

they look so happy

and beautiful,

in the old photographs,

frozen in a moment,

time long gone,

alas,

they look so dead.

 

Her name was Arina.

She asked me if DDR meant

Deutsche Demokratische Republik

or

Das Dritte Reich.

“Hmmmm…” I said out loud,

“Since Königsberg became Kaliningrad,

is there any difference?”

At that point I felt a chill,

a whisper from the past,

a memory of intense cruelty,

of wanting to do unto others

as they have done unto you.

Sometimes wishful thinking,

sometimes real,

sometimes you don’t really want to,

but an order’s an order and,

when the Barrier Troops are behind you,

you do what you have to do.

I felt another chill,

looked down

and saw blood on the floor,

it was me,

bleeding,

such vivid red…