The girl stood out on the stony platform overlooking her city. Her dress fluttered in the wind, her hair blew gracefully in the wind's direction. She felt the cool breeze brush by her as always, but today, she had no joy in it. There was no spark, no sensation, no feeling of life coursing through her veins. All she felt was pain, anguish, and suffering, coupled with the wind, trying to turn her sadness to joy. But it did no good.
She watched the army departing, leaving the city, going somewhere else, in order to defend and make right. But she saw as well a boy, a young boy, riding with the army as if to escape something. He was too young, yet he ventured anyway. She was sad for him, for he was her brother, and he felt the same pain she did. The difference was that he could escape it. He could ride away into the distance, running away from the pain, the knowledge of death that haunted her. She could not run, could not ride away, could not escape the haunting memories. And so she cried, and her tears covered the platform, and they sat there, unnoticed by all but her.
Many years passed, and the woman once again stood on the stony platform, overlooking her city. Her dress once again fluttered in the wind, her hair blew once again gracefully in the direction of the wind. She felt that cool breeze brush by her, as it had so many times before, but she felt nothing, no joy or peace from it. There was no sensation, no relaxing effect, no feeling of life coursing through her veins. All she felt was worry, fear, and rejection coupled with the wind, trying to turn her anxiety into joy. But it did no good.
She watched the army departing, leaving the city, leaving the country, going to find a place to live, in order to fulfill the law, and survive. But she saw as well a man, a young man, riding with the army to escape something. He was not too young, and now he led the army, but he was venturing away. She was sad for him, for he was her brother, and he felt a different pain than she did. He was being forced away, and she was losing him. But he could run, avoiding the pain that laid in the city, in the house, in her glance. But she could not, she could not run from the pain, and the worry, and the fear. And so she cried, and her tears covered the platform, and they sat there, unnoticed by all but her.