They
Died
It is as
though everyone stopped believing,
But me.
They are not bothered by their
Accents
becoming heavier day after day, their tulips
Dying in
the garden, and our anthem that has
Become a
distant melody. The cheese in
Their
shiny kitchens isn’t even real any more.
I am the
only one who still loves
Those
foggy days that smell like grass. During
Which
you want to roll around in that grass, the
Dew
drops making you soaking wet. Your boots
Becoming
invisible and it seems like you are walking
To
nowhere.
I would
catch a raindrop, while passing the old
Windmill.
The drop, following the lines of
My
hands, always made me realize how young I am,
Yet how
old I feel. My thin jacket did not do
Much to
protect me from the rain, I would
Shake it
off, exactly how my dog used to.
She
died.
They
should try catching a raindrop to realize how
Old they
have become. I am sure that they
Will be
able to see the faded pencil marks left
Behind
in their minds, and they will remember
That if
they do not water their tulips, they
Will die
with them.
__________
After the men knocked on our
door,
Mother forgot to water the
Tulips in the garden. Their
once
Playful colors, dancing with
the soft, Dutch winter winds,
Now look more like my despicable
grandfather:
Old and wrinkly, fragile and
grey,
Purposely forgotten in his
rocking chair.
The roses on the other side,
however,
Were looked after with great
care, never disregarded.
Mama loved their color:
A red resembling the red of
the stripes on her country’s flag,
“So very lively,” as she
would say with her thick American accent,
Looking out of the window,
while making
Me a sandwich with appelstroop.
But I could still not
understand,
While picking up the ashes of
my favorite flower,
Why she did not want to see
their enchantment,
The way the tulips were in
perfect harmony with the robins who
Whistled “Nederland, oh, Nederland” just before
dawn.
How couldn’t she love the
reflection of the tulips
In the lake we skate on
during the winter,
And how their colors
complemented the colors of my flag
perfectly?
I did not understand until I
realized
That the men who knocked on
our door that day
Took everything away: not
just every book in our library,
Grandma’s favorite painting,
and our family’s reputation,
They took away my father’s
wonderful, soothing smile,
My sister’s naiveté, my mother’s love
for tulips,
And my surrender.
And my surrender.
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