or Vision of living in a subdued homeland
„In the end “, she says
peeking outside between the boards on our window.
“they are just people like us.”
Her naked arms look skinny
in the dim light of our room.
“Afraid and misunderstood.
Incited by a vocal minority.”
“No”, I say
slouching on our mouldy once green armchair.
My eyes are dry
as I was keeping watch
the whole night.
“They are against us
in every way possible.
They just hate us.
End of story.”
She turns around and looks at me
Dust particles dance around her small frame.
I return her look
She folds her arms, as if she was freezing.
Then she strolls over, glances down on me,
takes a seat on the arm rest.
“You’ve changed”, she says.
Her shoulder softly touches mine.
“I know”, she says,
“you want to join them out there.
I remain silent.
We listen to the slogans that are chanted outside.
Suddenly she is bending over me. The tips of her hair tickle my face.
I can’t quite place the expression
she pins me down with.
“Your lovely hair”, I brush an amber-coloured strand out of her face.
“It still looks so summerly.”
“I don’t know. It just came to my mind.”
“It reminds me of the day at the beach. You know,
when the wind took your light blue hat away
and I failed to retrieve it.”
Days at the beach, I think to myself,
while I drink in her smile,
sticky sun milk
the pain of sunburn
sand grains on our naked skin
those days are over.
Her face comes closer to mine.
How she manages to smell so good
in this filthy lair of ours
is beyond me.
“You think”, she says. “That I don’t miss it.”
“That I don’t know how much we lost.”
I want to silence her
with a kiss.
“You think I don’t comprehend
their anguish and fear.
Your anguish and fear. But I do.”
It’s not anguish, it’s anger. It’s not fear, it’s repulsion.
“It’s a spiral downwards.
We need peace on the streets
to be able to talk
“Freedom”, I say, “is not up for negotiation.”
And I shove her off me
And I think with frustration that
even managed to ruin
this moment of tenderness
I walk over to the boarded-up window
that bars out the offensive sunshine.
But not the noise.
“I believed in it once.
I believed in debate and arguments.
That we’re all equally good and bad
and all that other
But the time for debate
is long over.”
I sound like a black-clad villain
out of a movie
and I’m afraid to turn around
and see the expression
on her face.
But I hear soft steps
and feel her warmth beside me.
“You know”, she says.
“I’m not afraid of their restrictions, their vitriolic belief.
I can endure.”
I hear the tears in her voice.
“What I fear is
that you’ll be turning into someone
I don’t recognise anymore.
So that I would have to walk away from you.
Because it would eat me up inside
to see you like that.”
An explosion-like noise
somewhere far away.
We don’t even flinch anymore.
“All I’m going to do
I’m doing out of
for you”, I say. It sounds so fake.
She thinks so too and looks at me
like one would look
at a problem child.
And I just lean forward
and stormily kiss
her teary face.
And I know she does not feel like kissing
But she endures.
Because her rejection
would be my final straw.
Because of her