Tales of the Country Once Loved

Long ago, we share the same smiles. But, that was before- before the end came.

Yes, I am speaking of our land- this land I love, this place I admire. Here, we live in simple ways. We live with the structure we know, with the smiles we share. Here we toil the soil and see life. We grow not only what is green but also what we inherit. We share not only smiles but also laughter. We utter not only the same words but also speak our language- our own language.

But these were long before the end came. Now, we are scattered. I never expected this day to come; this day where the sky is dark. I know darkness, but, this is rather not darkness. We are here in the gloom of yesterday- the product of what we do not desire. But, yes, we do not desire. We do not even lay our hands to this. We do not even speak a word for this. But, today is different; today, it happened. What happened today is neither our desire nor our will. This is accident. But, this is maybe not. I would rather say misfortune. Yeah, this is much appropriate.

Today, this place trembled. The earth shook the ground. Definitely, nothing remains alive. Yes, we were dead. But, we died long before. We died when the end came, when we were scattered. The earth did not murder us. We killed ourselves. How hopeless are we. I’d rather want to see the earth killing us one by one with his wrath than to see people killing themselves. What a waste! How sinful are we to kill our brothers and sisters- even ourselves.

Yes, we are sinful but we are not murderers. We are still breathing in this land near death. One by one, we suffer from plague. We breathe but we are not living. We exist but we are not existing. How chaotic to see ourselves living in this near death country of ours.

With this I see the future nothing but space. Sorry for I am mistaken; I see something- trash. I can see ourselves as the trashes we never wanted to be. I can see no more heroes. Definitely, there would be no more heroes, for we are all suffering in plague. We are suffering in plague no drug can cure. We are in pain no one could ease. We are hopeless, no chance for living.

The question is, ‘Are we the victim?’ Maybe, we are not. We are also not the suspect though we have killed. What we are is still unknown. We will know what we are if the end came. Yes, the end came. But this end is not the end we want. We will know who we really are if the end we dream of come.

I don’t know who I am. But I know at some point I have killed. But like everyone, I do not want it. I do not want to see myself dying in pain and agonies. I do not want the children to feel the same. I do not want them to inherit a country once loved yet is dying.

What I want is not for myself, but rather for the children including mine. I want the place once loved to be loved forever. I want my country to be loved by the children she loves. Though my country is old, though my country is forgotten, she is still my country I want to live with. She is still the country I want my children to grow up with. For in my country, I am at peace. For only on my country I am alive, for only with her we can live. For only with her we can survive. So, eliminate all your senses. Talk, but speak for others. Work, but work with faith. Live, but live for this place- this place where we could only live.