Let me forget

let me forget

the horrors that i lived

the painful memories that i carry

let me forget

the feelings that arose

so deep, so deep and painful

let me forget

that now, who i am, was forever changed

just fifteen when war broke out

when others took my country from me

took my life, my hopes

took my family, my friends

shattered them and forever changed them

let me forget that world

a night of restful sleep i could never have

we harboured those they feared

one night a week

sleep would be shattered

a face demanding to know where they were hidden

one night in very, very few

it was the face of the monger

the answer the same

though i lied and lied and lied

let me forget that face

a night of restful sleep would never come

the night sky full of angry drones

the scream of sirens

the crash of bombs

just one

just one

might be loosed at me

let me forget those nights

a night of restful sleep was far away

as I roamed the land free at night

to call in the drones that come tonight

to organise and to resist

it was not free

bound by hedges, roads and trees

in fields wide open

in woods with trees

the monger always looking

let me forget being hunted

one day i was caught

but only suspected

held in the monger’s domain

for what seemed hours i waited and waited

would their glances turn into hate

they'd caught what they wanted but didn't yet know

at end of shift it was sure to change

the receptionist let me free

my name was not listed when i was brought in

the simple resistance of a pen unmoved

let me forget what i escaped

my beloved and i embraced each other

but a few times in a year

always stilted, excited from so many days spent apart

each time that we met

this might be the last

last touch

last kiss

last glance

let me forget that desperate embrace

so many years on

but still so very clear

the horrors of that time

the vision of war

the incredible carnage of life and labour

the smell of living, dying and decay

the scream of anger, fear and pain

are memories that linger still

to be triggered, remembered and dealt with again and again

by simple, simple things

we are entwined with the past

memories, feelings, words and pictures

i will always remember

i can never forget

help me to forget

help me to transform

those memories, feelings, times

into distant dim ones

through

little kindnesses

smiles, tenderness, time

to me and to those that need to forget

to everyone you meet

family, friend or stranger

make this your place

where memories and feelings

are to be treasured

enjoyed and shared

where we want to remember

i've lived in the world where

memories should be but cannot be forgotten

i've lived in a world where

feelings go beyond what i can bear

i've lived in a world where

those that should be loved are hated

through insecurity and fear

you don't want that world

i know you don't

i've lived it for you sadly

be kind, be gentle and always remember

everyone has a family

hopes like you

and dreams like you

those that destroy them are just like those that i fought

even if they are just like you

be kind, be gentle, be generous

and

let me forget

so that you never need to forget

too

This is a reflection on Remembrance Day and how my mum and dad struggled with both it and Anzac Day.  They did not want to remember, stories of WWII where far and few between and particularly treasured by a teenage me that was enamoured by that war.  I can't imagine what it was like for them when I made plastic 1:72 models of instruments of war had they lived with daily during those six years.

My dad was an onderduiker (underground) radio operator.  He in allied terms was extremely precious as communications in those days was not quite like today.  The mobile phone of the day would have filled a large backpack and probably weighed in excess of 15kg.  The mortality rate was 90% as the axis considered them to be what we would now call terrorists.

My mum helped harbour jews in a farm in the countryside.  The Book Thief gives you a tiny glimpse into what life would have been like for her and the family she lived with.

To give context, they were just 15 when the war started and 21 when it finished.

(C) Copyright Luke Visser 2014 (written Nov 2014)