Have you ever noticed after the raging chaos, after the last brick of a building that promised forever falls, there is a deafening silence? It is a soft pause after all hell breaks loose. It is relieving in a sort of ironic way to know that things couldn’t get much worse, that we have hit rock bottom. The pure sound of silence is like drops of sweet water, falling on the dry throats of a people who have suffered much for too long, knowing that soon they will be put out of their misery. I like to think the silence that follows destruction is nature’s way to give us a moment to process, to grieve over everything that was lost and destroyed before we are forced to move on.
I bask in the quiet of the remnants of what used to be my backyard next to my grief- stricken mother and my older brother. My blood-shot eyes stare at the large pile of rubble of security and familiarity. Large black cannons, seen in the harsh distant, are still hot from its recent activity and the indestructible tanks were a contrast in the distance against the orange and pink sky of the rapidly setting sun.
My home, a small town in Oregon, is gone and forever will be. The Bly Wall, built with strongest of materials too last for ages, is gone too, our only protection against the raiding troops. Neighbors, friends, enemies, mothers, fathers, sisters, and brothers stand together with the same facial expression: despair. We have lost the battle.
Now we stand in the stillness of the air that nature has given us, to grieve for just a minute, to take in a last look of our demolished homes before we are taken away as war prisoners to lead a life of slavery.
But for now, we forget our fate, and we ignore the soft steps of the soldiers coming toward us.
WE STAND IN THE SILENCE