For all those nameless… by Gordana Mudri

What are you thinking, you nameless stranger, when you sit alone, without words, in front masses of people who are running around without stopping? No one sees you. No one stops. No one speaks. And you are just sitting there, looking at the well-known streets after such a long time; and you see – nothing. Your eyes are staring into the distance. Your body is here, but your thoughts are trapped forever in some other place; in some other time.

lone02_400For how long haven’t you been here? Do you remember the time “before”? The time, before you started counting dead…

You knew, you had to be there. You knew it wouldn’t be easy, but…   no one said to you that hell has so many circles…

How many lifeless bodies have you pulled out? How many children’s eyes have you shut forever? How many screams in the night have you counted? How much grief, pain and suffering a human can bear, soaking like a sponge, until the last cell in the body burst… until he has to run away. To save himself… or in the end he won’t save anyone else …anymore.

Now you are sitting here, far from hell, trying to heal your own wounds, alone and forgotten. You’re trying to soak the warmth of the sun but your feet are still wet and cold of the deadly waves of the Aegean Sea. Your bones are frozen from the snows of the Balkans, your skin is covered with mud of the shores of Calais.

The sun died. You don’t feel it anymore. All you have is this deep darkness and this invisible and indelible wounds in your soul. You sacrificed yourself without asking for anything in return.

You knew you had to be there… And you will be there again, among hundreds of those who feel the same like you, to fight the waves, winter and mud, in the battle for humanity.

Without asking – who is going to save you…

Ovi magazine

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