He died.

He died.
That was all my ever speaking grandmother could say.
Hard times of the old age
come only with more hard times
as the time passes.

I wish I could feel anything,
but I understand her pain.
The pain of loss,
the pain from the guilt she must have felt,
being tired taking care of him so long.

I understand.
I understand there’s a time coming,
a time of remembrance for him,
for Pista – the grumpy,
the soldier.

I wish to remember,
remember and feel – something.
But I don’t.
The events are out of my hands,
out of my mind.

He was a good man –
these words must be said from better fitting men.
People who feel and remember –
I could say only, coldly:
May he rest in peace now.

Benyamin Bensalah

12.11.2021 13:13

2 thoughts on “He died.

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