Past Lives

We’ve been here before.

I remember the way the arrows whistled through the air, the smell of gunpowder bursting from the booming cannon, the spray of bullets from the trenches.

I remember you, but you looked different. You were slender and darker but you were, after all, the daughter of the Sun and this land was ours before Columbus and the others arrived and called it their own.
You fell in love with one of them. A stranger in our lands and you said he was the one, as if he didn’t carry the blood of killers and you loved him, loved him too much.

I remember you, but again, you had another face and another name. We were Americans but we weren’t free, not free just yet. The British still held on to us like it was afraid of us gaining power, and it’s ironic that it’s their iron grip that made us stronger.
You fell in love with them. A foreigner in our midst and you said he was the one, as if he didn’t point his musket at us and you loved him, loved him too much.

I remember you, but your face was dirtier, streaked with dust and fatigue. We were hiding, hiding behind the secret room in the old man’s house, hiding from the Germans who wanted our blood on the streets.
You fell in love with one of them. A sinner in a church and you said he was the one, as if he didn’t carry bullets with our names on it and you loved him, loved him too much.

Now here we are, after countless lives throughout the ages, from the beginning to the streets of Salem to the present, but we never changed.

I’ve always been there, just inches away from you. Never far, never out of reach. Just there, almost close enough to whisper “Why don’t we run away?”, almost close enough to take your hand and run, run away from the hail of arrows and cannon-fire and bullets… but I never did, because you never changed, falling in love with the enemy, falling in love with the people you knew would leave you, hurt you and forget you.


You’ve never changed. I can tell by the way your tears fall like gunfire and the way you keep quiet like a dead man that again, again and again, you’ve been left, broken and hurt.
We can’t go back and change the way we used to be, but we could take the wheel and change our destination for today so…

Say, why don’t we run away?

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