Diamonds in the rough

I will never forget the day they came for my father
Accused him of theft, espionage, even manslaughter
They grabbed him by the neck, slammed his face on the floor
Beat him senseless, before they dragged him out the door
As they left they bluntly stated, that I would see him no more
My father was a great man, of that I am sure
A rebel, a politician, a part of the resistance
A loving father, a brother and the reason for my existence
Hours. Days. Weeks. Months. Years.
Not a single letter, not even a call
When they charged their rifles, my father stood tall
As the shots flew through the air, my mother shielded my eyes
She sunk to her knees and told me that a man of our family, dies with pride

Years go by, and I can hear them approaching
The stomp of their boots resembles a growling
I wake the love of my life, tell her to flee
Said that I was sorry, but happy was not for us to be
The soft touch of her lips
Hands firmly on her hips, one last kiss
I lift my newborn daughter from her crib
I tell her that I love her and kiss her gently
Told them that justice would be served eventually
As I watch them leave, I flinch unintentionally
My time was up, death would come for me unquestionably
On the path of death we all walk alone
The irony of it all occurs to me, like father, like son
The door cracks open and they apprehend me
Drags me onto the courtyard, prepared to end me
I hear a muffled cry from the darkness behind me
My daughter’s cry would never escape me
The soldiers freeze and gaze into the alley
My daughter and wife, the remainder of my family
A soldier spots movement and my heart starts racing
The soldier starts pacing, about to investigate
I pull the hidden trigger and let my chest detonate

©Alexander Berg Mattsson, 2012


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