CALL OF THE SIREN

Sirens signify sorrow, announce anguish.

Sirens mean that somebody is about to experience HUGE PAIN. Someone is going to lose their car, their home. Someone – his life, his livelihood. Sirens mean a lot of pain. 

Strangely, I never thought about sirens in that light until someone said that about them a couple of days ago.

Sirens in the wartime – like the sunrise every morning. Unavoidably present. Inevitable, like it or not – THEY ARE THERE. You get used to them; you stop noticing their screeches. The siren wails, and you know what to do: Danger! Hide!

Yes, you know. You know, what you're supposed to do. And yet…Are you doing, what you're supposed to? 

Running. Hiding?

No. It’s almost impossible to run and hide every time the siren starts to howl. And trust me – they howl often. It’s 4 p.m. in the afternoon? They don’t care. Only you do. It’s 4 a.m. in the morning? They don’t care… They don’t care, because they're only doing their job – howling. They don’t care, because the enemy doesn't care… And – they don’t sleep. So neither can you.

So, you just sigh and... you hope that this time the bomb will not touch you… To be honest? You think every time, that, well, maybe also this time, everything will "somehow" pass through. 

So, you just sigh and you hope that this time the bomb won’t touch you. To be honest? That’s the same thought, the belief that maybe this time as well, everything will ’somehow’ pass through.

Where I am right now, the sirens are no longer wailing. The bombs are just falling down on us.  Without choosing where and on what.

#24HOURSATWAR

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-Image and Post by Milda Matulaityte-Feldhausen