Reminisce

There is no way you can understand the pain, and I pray you never do. Imagine your secret, sacred heart- the place where all is known. A danger is coming, and while you wish nothing more than to stay, you know you must leave. Your dearest friends are gone, left to an uncertain destination. You try to beat the stampede, but are caught in the mad throng of fearful abandonment. Over fourteen hours to make a journey that would usually take two. Hoping against hope that it's not as bad as they say. Sitting in a hotel lobby, alone, watching the horror unfold in grainy resolution. Watching your home, your love, your life washed away in dirty storm water. Watching people wade through a stew of oil and filth. Hearing stories of violence and murder and pain. Seeing the spray-painted signs on doors, knowing there is human rot waiting behind. These images are etched over the memories you have made. The street you had walked down countless times is the scene of death- corpses left in the street, a discarded blanket the only cover. The bar you spent hours at, talking with friends, is making a desperate stand against looters and villains. Knowing it will be a long time before you can return home, and that the life you lived is completely gone forever. You bide your time in a city you grow to hate. You try to prepare yourself for what it will be like when you're finally allowed to return home. Relief mixes with dread, mixes with hope, mixes with despair. When you make the long journey home, you are greeted with a shadow of the former glory. What once was bright and joyous is now feeble and fragile. The water lines on houses. The dirt in the air. The mountains of refuse. The stench of spoiled food from fridges on every corner. The absence of music. The city is a ghost town. There are more military vehicles than civilian. Your friends are gone, scattered to the winds. You don't know if you'll ever see them again. You stagger down the familiar streets and search for something to cling to. You are home. But you know nothing will ever be the same.