Sunday, 9 August 2009


She cried and the tears stained her heart.
It was a scream no mother listening would forget. A scream so wrenching, the world stopped spinning.
They took all her children away. And on that day they grasped her heart and ripped it from her body, the wound never to heal.
That day was burned in her memories like the first glimpse of life at birth, their first steps, their love. How could she ever forget the pain. Why must life go on?
Her eyes burned with salt, her face pinched with pain looking into the sun as her children were taken away by strangers.
They looked back and she wanted to beat the ground with her fists, throw ash over her body and wail to the wind in torment, but the moment was gone and all she could do was weep silent tears.
Her life was lived in memories. The snapshots of moments, but every thought brought back the pain and every day she thought of them. Every breath was for them. Every heartbeat counted until she could see them again. But they never brought them back. And her memories had to suffice in her dreams, in her nightmares.

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