On the 18th of October I had the honour of participating in Kunstbende Limburg Voorronde. The video is my performance which one me first place. This means I have to perform in my capital, Amsterdam, on the 7th of November. I wanted to perform more like the sixteen year old I sometimes I forget that I am, instead of the Second World War persona I usually perform as. But I couldn’t read poems without including where it all started, could I now?
The book is now finally published and purchasable. When Heaven Touches Hell is a book with 40 beautiful poems accompanied by stunning photographs! The in total 75 pages high quality paper comes at a low price (shipping not included). At only 14 years old, Sara Curfs wrote a book with the most impressing poetry in a language not even hers. We are excited to share with you and everyone around the world: When Heaven Touches Hell. (Send a Message through the website to purchase the book)
The book costs €9,95 (euro’s!!!) without shipping.
Costs of the book in The Netherlands are €14,- INCLUDING DELIVERY
While sending an email to purchase the book, please inform us of your residence so we can calculate extra costs including shipping/transport.
The book will be delivered to you in an extra protective envelope to make sure it doesn’t get to you in any damaged way.
I apologise for all the tears
The sleepless nights and broken heart
The silence and the screaming
The six feet apart
I apologise for your self hatred
The sadness that I’ve brought you
The unspoken words and held back truth
Sorry for the hell we’ve been through
Sorry for the times I didn’t hold you
Or the days I forgot to show my love
Sorry for the good memories
Or more, the lack thereof
Sorry that I forgot to care
And sorry for the days I cared too much
Sorry that I can’t feel your hug
Or your sweet touch
I’m sorry that I’m not there right now
And words will have to do
But don’t question my feelings
And the love I have for you
Inspired by the song ultimately by khai dreams
If tears could whisper words
To the one who seems to fall
Would any living person
Even dare to cry at all?
For facing your sadness
Might be scarier than you’d think
Hearing the water that stains your cheeks
Every time you blink
It’s the fear of knowing
What you’ve actually known before
But having to hear it
Breaks a heart up to its core
For words turn something blurry
Into something that seems real
And at the end the human fears
That what it could feel
Peter Fechter was 18 years old when he tried to escape East Germany and start his new life in the west. He and his friend tried to escape, until Peter was lethally shot. All took place in front of hundreds of people (soldiers, journalists etc). They left him there, right where he fell, for when someone tried to help him, they’d be shot too. And no one could reach him without going down the same path Peter Fechter hadn’t survived. So there he lay, dying, in front of everyone. After about an hour, he passed away. Once he did, an East German soldier picked up his body, and carried him back to East Berlin, where he had so desperately tried to escape from.
Hello there! My name is Sara Curfs, I’m a teenage writer who reads her poetry about the Second World War (all written by myself) in English. I do so in the uniform of a nurse during this time, or, when asked to, in a different attire (1940’s civilian for example).
You can hire me to read at your events. Please message me through the email in contacts and let me know the details!
Here are some pictures to show what I do and how I look. PHOTOGRAPHS BY NICK GEERLING
18 and 19 January 2020, while still living in the rush of being in the newspaper, I was hired to read my poems for the Echt-Susteren event. I was more than thrilled to do so and decided to show up in the right attire.
During the event I read a few of my poems, one before the mock battle and one before the amazing concert on Sunday evening. I met a lot of great people and I was very thrilled to have gotten this chance.
There aren’t many pictures from me, but I found one made by Patricia Geerling and one by a photographer for L1 (I assume Jean-Pierre Geusens). I want to thank the organization for the amazing weekend and everyone who showed up. Thanks again
On the 13th of January 2020 I had an interview with Geertjan Claessens for the newspaper known as “De Limburger”. He came to my house and we talked for about an hour on my hobby and what drove me to do what I do.
It was an experience that really made an impact on me. I didn’t know how to act in the beginning, and was really nervous. But after a few minutes I loosened up and he and I spend a good part of the interview just making some jokes and talking stress free.
After that Annemiek Mommers, the photographer, and I tried to come up with a good idea on a pose for the photograph. To be honest with you, I was more a nervous, chuckling and kind of embarrassed mess, and she pulled me through it for sure.
She took an amazing photograph in my library where I write most of the times. She’s an amazing person and a very kind soul.
Skip forward to Tuesday. I was still sleeping when my father woke me up, walking into my bedroom with a grin on his face and exclaiming: “You’re in.”
It’s quite a weird moment for one to wake up with your own face staring back at you from the newspaper you read daily. And especially since I wasn’t fully awake yet, I spend about five minutes just staring in disbelief. One of the first pages, my interview.
Let’s just say I never expected to get this far, so every new step is frightening. But its worth it.
Rainier Eggen, the DJ for Radio Parkstad and I, had a lovely talk on the 4th of December. We talked about a lot of amazing things, and he is a great guy! We shared a taste for music and I listened to some very good songs while on the show.
He is a really kind and welcoming person, so I felt straight at home there. Although I was a bit nervous, he helped me right through it. We talked about my passion and I read a poem of mine, which he really seemed to like.
We joked around a bit, but all the same it was an amazing experience. I also met two lovely ladies while just coming back rom the interview who told me they were inspired by what I do. It meant the world to me!
Once I got home, I still couldn’t fully believe it. Thousands of people had listened to me, even a few of my good friends had tuned in, some from abroad. I had never imagined this to be possibly, but trust me when I say I’m so happy that it is.
In November 2019 the same friend who wrote that beautiful song for me, helped me get on a radioshow in the Netherlands! Johan Coolen is a true sweetheart and helped me through my first ever 30 minutes fame on the radio, haha.
I read a few poems and talked about why I do what I do, etc. The topic of how my teachers responded to what I do came up, and I remembered the one history teacher I had who called me “soldier girl”. So for the show I was sometimes called “soldier girl” which stood out quite funny to me, but also very nice.
I had a blast, it was something I had never done before. As said before the entire team was amazing, I couldn’t have asked for a better moment of the day.
I’m not sure if you can see it, but during the show I was wearing a Poppy for Remembrance Day. I talked about the First World War and read a poem for all the soldiers who fought so many years ago.
Martin Krewinkel, a man in my re-enactment group and to be fair, a true sweetheart and a gem in every way, messaged me one day if it would be alright with me if he used one of my poems for a song.
Of course I said yes.
Time went by, and after a month or so, he messaged me again, now with the complete song of one of my poems. He loves music and loves writing and singing, yet all the same he loved my poetry and combined the two to something so sweet and heartwarming.
I listened the song for a good few days non-stop until everyone at home grew tired of me and I was forced to wear headphones, haha. None the less, it truly warms my heart and I personally really like the song, hope you all do too!
Credits go to Martin Krewinkel for the amazing song!
Here are the original poem:
There he lay,
In crimson bathing,
His lifeless eyes,
His useless body,
No more breaths,
For his lungs to fill
No more days,
Yet to come,
No more watching
The rising sun
There he sat,
With bloody hands,
For his fallen friends,
His lips shut,
No words to say,
No call to utter,
Or God to pray,
With anger filled,
He grabbed a gun,
At that rising sun
Night took over day,
Death would always stay,
He sat silently,
In No Man’s Land,
With a message,
For Heaven to send,
Of grief, sadness,
And the beautiful dead,
A message which is nothing more,
Alles ist anders wie erst
Rot ist nicht nur einfach rot
Rot ist die Farbe der Menschen die ihren Streit verloren haben
Rot ist die Farbe der Kinder die nicht mehr nach Hause wiederkehren sollen
Rot ist die Farbe des Kriegs
Des Blut das ich nicht mehr von meiner Händen waschen kann
Rot wie die Sonne die mich jeden Tag weckt
Rot wie die Lippen der Frau die ich so vermisse
Rot, die Farbe des Kriegs, dem Zuhause das ich nicht mehr wieder erkenne
Rot ist meine Farbe, so wie Tausenden anderen Männer und Frauen, weil rot nicht nur einfach rot ist
A dead German soldier, killed during the German counter offensive in the Belgium-Luxembourg salient, is left behind on a street corner in Stavelot, Belgium, on January 2, 1945, as fighting moves on during the Battle of the Bulge.