There will come a day when history books will talk of you like they did of the wars before you.
When your body will be made a heritage site made to remember the horrors you faced. With innocence, tears and blood trapped in your corners under blocks of what was once a sight eyes died to see.
Those will be days when the pages of those books will highlight; not the atrocities that you saw, but the stories of those who were to blame.
Different parts of the world will talk of you differently. When the time comes, I fear you won’t be a part of that world anymore.
I stand by you.
I stand by the four year old who had to rub the mixture of blood of dust off his eyes just so he could see he his nightmare a little better.
I stand by every tear that we allowed to fall out of your eyes as we sat by and watched.
I stand by every child who holds on to his mother like her life only piece of hope left in his life.
I stand by every father and other who has had to lose their child in a war that wasn’t theirs to begin with.
I stand by you, even though I can’t save you.
When I look at the Christmas tree in front of me, know, that I remember your screams.
I will not forget how we recorded and live streamed all your horrors and slept comfortably in bed holding our loved ones while you said goodbye to yours.
I’m sorry we let this happen to you.
I’m sorry I let this happen to you.