Innocence Lost

Entry Writchal #3
Tema: Mati


Innocence Lost

We were told that your people are savages. A bloodthirsty lot who craved nothing but violence. 

We were told that your nation is full of hate. The endless fires of anger. The willingness to kill without remorse. 

We were told that you have no understanding of compassion or love. 

We were told that you are a people of cruelty. 

We were told that your people worship God in complete disregard of His will. 

As the author of one of my favourite poems put it, “You have wronged us. You have wronged me.”

We were told that you have wronged us, and you have wronged all your own people. You have brought your hate here. You have sent your soldiers to violate the sanctity of every human being to do violence in the name of avarice. 

With that in mind, I have no reason to think twice when I pulled the trigger on you. 

You are the scourge of the Earth, and I am the agent of justice.

So, I pulled the trigger and shot you. 

But then… what I saw was not the savage killer that we were told. 

Not the heretic who is unable to accept the will of God. 

Not the man who cannot learn compassion.

Not the hate-filled, bloodthirsty spirit of revenge.

The only thing I saw was but a boy who was as scared as anyone else.

You looked at me, and then you looked down at the ground, and then you looked up again. And you were shaking.

You began to cry.

It was as if I had made your heart break.

“What have I done? What have I done?”

You cried.

“Why do you have to do this to me? I just want to go home! I just want to go home!”

You looked at me, and I saw a face that was full of fear and pain.

I saw a boy who did not appear to even know his own age.

I saw a face full of confusion, and you began to scream.

“Don’t do this to me!”

“Please, don’t do this!”

“I just want to go home! Please!”

“Mother! Anastasia!”

I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt.

All I could think was, “I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry for pulling the trigger.

I’m sorry for shooting you.

I’m sorry for your pain.

I’m sorry for your tears.

I’m sorry I took your life.

I am left with many questions.

Do you think it’s possible to forgive me?

All those people that I have killed.

Have I sinned all this time?

Is it really possible to forgive the person who murdered you?

You were still human. 

You were still our brother.

You were still loved.

You were still valuable.

You were still living in the world that God made. 

You were still made in God’s image.

But Your life was just taken from you without any consideration or grace.

I cannot undo my action. 

I cannot get you back to your family, to the life you were used to.

You will die before your time.

You had so much more to give,

Oh, your soul had so much more to give.

All that was stolen from you by hate.

Do you think God will forgive me?

Can God forgive me? 

Do you think that I have sinned so deeply that I am no longer worthy to go to heaven?

Can I forgive myself?

I didn’t ask to be here.

I didn’t ask for this responsibility.

I don’t want to be here anymore.

Why does it have to turn out like this?

Why did God let this happen?

As you cried for your mother and your sister in your dying breath.

I was in tears.

I cried, and then I cried harder.

Because if only I could take your life back.

I could right so much wrong.

All those people that I have killed.

God forgive me.

I killed a boy.

He was just a boy.

He was just 17.

If only I could take away your pain,

As I sat in front of your shallow grave.

Nameless and unremarkable.

With only a rusty old rifle to mark it. 

I thought to myself.

That I will never be forgiven.

I thought that it would be my eternity here in this place.

I thought that I could never return to the world that I know.

The last vestige of my innocence.

Tainted by my own hands.

Over the blood of a fellow human.

I couldn’t make it right.

Why did this happen?

Who decides such things?

Why do I get to grow older, and he doesn’t?

Why did God let this happen?

Why did you have to die?

It doesn’t make sense.

None of it makes sense.

When will it make sense?

Maybe for the rest of my life.

I will live in misery. 

Maybe for the rest of my life.

I will never be able to forgive myself. 

Maybe for the rest of my life.

I will live with the memories that I took away from you. 

And everyone that lost their life by my hands.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.


Penulis: Von Grenadus

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