born into a world ravaged by
hatred
slaughtered by
war

small towns covered with a thin layer of
dust
and drenched in loss
you saw the still-wet eyes of
the wives
of the mothers
you saw, and you wanted to do
something

‘too short’ they told you
‘incapable’ they told you
‘rejected’ the papers screamed in rash red ink
your search to do something had
turned up into nothing

you had met her, her
eyes shining with
joy reserved for the city
a joy unknown to the small
towns you knew best

‘handsome’ she had whispered
‘lovely’ she had murmured
‘husband’ she had cried
your search for something had
given you a purpose

born into a damaged world, and
dancing with a dangerous girl.
you had no regrets, thankful
to be with someone who
saw you as the hero

 

I wrote this piece on a family friend of my grandmother’s, who grew up after World War Two and in the aftermath that struck many of the small towns in Alberta. Hearing how he saw first hand how people who lost husbands and fathers had to continue on without the person who they cared for the most, and didn’t fully understand the gravity of it when he was young was incredibly powerful. However, hearing how he wanted to do something to protect those who he cared about in a different kind of war was even more powerful to me. I wanted to take how his rejection from the very thing that he had wanted to do for most of his life led to him meeting his wife who fell in love with him, faults and all. 

Thank you so much Bill for sharing your story with me, 

Chloe

image

‘turquoise sea’ aestheticcabyss, tumblr.com