A Glance In the Past

My father recalls to me stories of his past, gripping his fists tightly as his faces turns gray telling me, “Son it was a dark time for Lebanon” Anxiously I continue listening spilling his inner suppressed memories “15 years… 15 years of blood and hate” Buildings that once stood graciously in the sky punctured by the bullets that continuously danced in midair Streets that were once filled with jubilant people now only hosted lifeless cold corpses Men grew absent from their families forcing women to carry lethal arms to shield their broods with their fingers embedded on the trigger Lurking from street to street in a scavenger’s hunt for vital necessities The excruciating smell of rot at sunrise a mixture of decomposing human flesh and garbage Flooded the streets an endless totality of discarded wastes After the sun departs the stagnant stars appear not a clatter can be heard on the tranquil streets Sympathetically reaching out to my father, removing him from the ominous nightmare he re-erected, holding his trembling hands firmly as I bring him to the reality of the passive present