Life moves on...

It took a while to clear the village.
Meanwhile children were scared.
Mothers and fathers too.
No one felt safe.

New homes were built.
New spaces created.
Where children could play.
Meanwhile, the grief was buried deep.

The villagers carried their pain.
Throughout their lives.
One without their children.
Without their loved ones.

The silence tormented their souls.
Became a source of coping.
For some a source of isolation.
Survivors guilt borne by many.

Children were kept indoors,
so as not to cause pain, to
those who had lost theirs.
Memory boxes were created.

In time the grief transformed into
a quiet strength. Healing did not mean
forgetting. Moving on did not mean
those children were unloved.

Honouring their children and the loss
of so many, became a way in which
they could rebuild their lives.
They could save their sanity.

No child, no adult who died that day and
the story that unfolded, will ever be forgotten.
Not while there are those able to keep their stories alive.