-House of War Competition
A cold breeze sweeps my face, knocking me back to reality. Where am I? I ask myself. Only fragments of memories come to mind. I must be lost.
The circular stairway is dark and unwelcoming. Like a watch tower but without windows, I tell myself. Navigating seems nearly impossible in here. The dimly lit enclosed space conjures up the loneliness that I have always felt. Light! A glimmer of light at the end brings a split second of comfort and familiarity. And I realize it is not the first one I have climbed through. In fact, it must have been the fourth one thus far. I can hear myself breathing heavily. Maybe the lack of fresh air is getting to me. I continue to maneuver up the stairs. The sound of each step resonates for a brief second or two but each comes with trembling force, as it grows and grows. My body shivers. I try to ignore the sensation and run as fast as I can towards the light. Until I finally enter a hallway. It reminds me of a church that I have been to except for balconies neatly line up on one end. Relieved, I feel. I reach to the edge of the closest balcony and lean over. Just then a draft of wind hit my body and at that instant a blinding light reveals a labyrinth of bridges connecting to the other identical wing. Shocked by the shear monumentality of the construct, I take a few moments to gather my feelings. Confused as I am, the question remains, where am I? Flag poles are bare, attached firmly to the sides of each balcony, leaving birds with the perfect resting stops. I wonder what this place used to be like. It is as though I am in the midst of an abandoned city or maybe even a fallen fortress, remnants of War? That can’t be. And a sudden emptiness brings a cold ghostly chill to the bone. And it was silence. I can hear the wind blows, the trees twist, even soft whispers from a distant corner. I look around the peripheral immediately only noticing people on other balconies. Are they lost like I am?
Something is odd. I have never experienced this profound sadness before. It is like I am overwhelmed by a strong sense of solitude and solemnness. I find my glaze locks on the bright open arc. And there, a man walks in with great determination. His face is covered by sharp shadow. But I can still make out his scared and wrinkled complexion and his well recognizable uniform from the army. He stops as he crosses the arc, right at the center of the stage. Still, he stands with his weary eyes set on the far end like he sees a long lost friend. Everyone is focusing on him. The silence is even more daunting now as if the whole world is waiting anxiously for something great to happen. And finally, he opens his mouth and words burst out like bullets, strong with control and no hesitation. He speaks with passion and conviction.
Have you forgotten yet?...
For the world’s events have rumbled on since those gagged days,
Like traffic checked while at the crossing of city-ways:
And the haunted gap in your mind has filled with thoughts that flow
Like clouds in the lit heaven of life; and you’re a man reprieved to go,
Taking your peaceful share of Time, with joy to spare.
But the past is just the same-and War’s a bloody game...
Have you forgotten yet?...
Look down, and swear by the slain of the War that you’ll never forget.
Do you remember the dark months you held the sector at Mametz-
The nights you watched and wired and dug and piled sandbags on parapets?
Do you remember the rats; and the stench
Of corpses rotting in front of the front-line trench-
And dawn coming, dirty-white, and chill with a hopeless rain?
Do you ever stop and ask, ‘Is it all going to happen again?’
Do you remember that hour of din before the attack-
And the anger, the blind compassion that seized and shook you then
As you peered at the doomed and haggard faces of your men?
Do you remember the stretcher-cases lurching back
With dying eyes and lolling heads-those ashen-grey
Masks of the lads who once were keen and kind and gay?
Have you forgotten yet?...
Look up, and swear by the green of the spring that you’ll never forget.
-Aftermath by Siegfried Sassoon 1919
I am left with empathy. Speechless I stand with hope, hope that someday war will be no more, that the only battle we fight is for peace and for our own humanity.
And then I understand why I am here.
Winter 2009
Selected in the Projects of Distinction category
