I didn't cry when they burned my father's books and I watched the pages wither in the flames; even the family Bible, with the birth and death of my mother and my little brother recorded inside. I didn't cry when they shot my father and my brother and I didn't cry when they left, the men in grey uniforms who are no longer my countrymen.
My sister cried, but I -
I didn't cry.
for more book-inspired stories, check out Magpie Tales.
It is sad. But very nice. Thanks for sharing! My magpie: http://verseinanutshell.wordpress.com/2011/05/16/open-book/
ReplyDeleteVery nice piece. Tragic and well written.
ReplyDeleteThe family Bible is a real nice touch. "With the birth and death of my mother and my little brother recorded inside." Real nice!
ReplyDeletevery gripping
ReplyDeleteThat's nice. Sorrowfully powerful.
ReplyDeleteStark and beautifully told.
ReplyDeletei hope someday she can...
ReplyDeleteoh yes, the burning of books. We think we can control others by burning their words and precious things. Sad in many ways. I mean the poem too.
ReplyDeletewhere are her tears waiting ...
ReplyDeleteThis is mighty powerful ... beautifully composed.
ReplyDeleteSometimes you have to be strong to survive - but always at a cost.
ReplyDeleteSuperb.
Anna :o]
good piece.
ReplyDeletecompact, well said.
ReplyDeleteHow very sad.
ReplyDeletephiewww!
ReplyDeleten♥