Author Topic: Cellars in 'the war at home'  (Read 400 times)

kipper 57

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Cellars in 'the war at home'
« on: January 23, 2013, 09:19:08 PM »

Oh, I am having such a wonderful time!
This war brings new life; warmth into my cold walls
When I hear that long drawn out sound
I know they are coming!
Families; children, mothers and fathers
The smell of kitchens, floor-polish, that nurturing smell
Comforting me, wrapping its arms around me
Saying ‘we are here, you are loved!’
I enfold them in my space
Protecting them; it is my job.
I have shared the brief kiss of a departing lover
Watched babes suckle, as the matriarchal mother,
Tells stories of hope to sleepy eyed children, whilst,
The quiet tears of her grief intermingle with mine.
I have felt every frustrated footstep of a pacing father
Saying ‘I shouldn’t be here!’
I want to tell them ‘I am here!’
But I have not been granted the power of speech
Instead I am the silent presence
Who they run to in their fear
But, what about me? What about my fear?
Oh! Let it never end – don’t lock me away
Alone once more
Life was so lonely for a cellar
Before the bombs came.

I wrote this direct from a writing workshop - when asked to write 'thinking out of the box'.
An image of 'our cellar' came straight into my mind. A room which seemed lost - unloved - yet in wartime, was a refuge and saw the family gathering - seeking its security. I was of course to young to have known this, but my mom, loved her stories and I was a willing listener.
A hole was made in the wall between ours and my Nan and Grandads next door - so the family could share one space and provisions. I just remember the lighter coloured bricks - that sat in the wall - when it was re-bricked up. Leaving it once more - unloved.