Windows

Then there were the windows of my childhood, when I peered out from a wooden school house, looking out onto the open grass. We lived far north of our comfort zones,surrounded by hostile eyes. At times we slept underground, where the rumbling earth kept us awake, and wondered when our fathers would return. We kept ourselves well amused with marching songs and playful skits, and if we were lucky, ventured outdoors to the piercing light of day, where we would continue to play. But it was never the same as when the fire of war dimmed, and burned less bright,and our childhood freedom could again venture out without fear. That was what the North had become. and even in the comfort of my old school house, i could no longer breath as I was meant to.