When Heaven Touches Hell

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

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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.


He looked at what was left of the war
No Man’s Land silent at last
Feeling guilty of the clothes he wore
There was just one thing he asked

He asked God up in the sky
Just for five minutes or less,
“Protect me so I don’t die,
Still wearing my army dress.”

Some parties they agreed
Not to fire a single round
Another dead, there was no need
For even more bodies in the ground

Other soldiers they did not
Believe that war was gone
Their firearm still burning hot
To death they were drawn

Few didn’t keep in mind
On their muddy watch, still going
11 o’clock is to be defined
As peace for the unknowing

Seconds before the church bell yells
That peace has finally been ensured
A dozen stories no one will tell
Of wounds that will never be cured

Have happened

Written down on marble white
At 5 AM Germany will write
Peace, between the nations
The roaring twenties crumbling foundations

And 6 hours later
The man on the field are told
War’s very own violator
Has finally been controlled.

But in that time too many will fall
Because of a last whistle being blown
Over No Man’s Land they crawl
For the didn’t know

This poem was based on the short film called END OF WAR- the final minutes of WWI. The “peace” was signed at 5AM, but the soldier didn’t know until 11AM, or couldn’t act on it until that time at least.

Till Death Do Us Part

She stared at him from No Man’s Land, the smile he had fallen in love with, recognizable from afar. Her piercing blue eyes stared at him, as she kneeled down to his level, while he tried to stay hidden from the enemy, the trench his only way of surviving.

Her laugh echoed through the battlefield, as a chuckle escaped from the soldier’s own lips. He shook his head, she still was the silly girl he had lost his heart to. Without hesitation, she stood up, her dress not even dirty, and walked away through the bodies of the dead.

“Don’t go,” he begged, pushing one hand against the bags of sand that served as a wall. He leaned forward, his head now over the trench, an easy target for the other side. 


His yell came right back to him, while no one answered. She walked further towards the other line, the other soldiers, who would shoot her if they got the chance. There was no one to live for if she was gone, she couldn’t leave him, not now.

“Shut up, Joseph!” his friend said, pushing him awake. He returned the favour with a glassy stare, showing that the real Joseph wasn’t there anymore, that someone else had taken his face and worn it as he’d wear clothes, to fit in, to not be spotted.

“But…” he stuttered “Mary?”

“Mary isn’t there, Jo! You’re imagining things!” the other soldier responded, holding his friend’s shoulder, as he tried to climb out of the trenches and into No Man’s Land, wanting to be with the one he loved most, not realising if he did, he’d leave her to be alone with grief and guilt.  

“No, I’m not!” he screamed back. “She’s real!” 

With those words he climbed out of his hiding place, staying low none the less, so he wouldn’t be shot immediately. His dirty hands grabbed onto the mud, his ruined shoes got stuck in the barbered wire as he crawled his way up from Hell, to what he thought was Heaven.


The enemy watched in pity how the soldier tried his best to find his loved one, while he took the chance of standing up, so he’d be able to catch up on his lover, as she walked casually to the Germans, having nothing to fear, for she wasn’t really there.

‘Mary!” he marvelled. 

“Come back! They’ll shoot you!” 

And that they did. Yet it wasn’t the petite body of the female which fell to the floor, yet the already rotten, scarred, limp shell of what had once been her partner, his helmet clattering in the mood, a loud thumb the last sound he ever made.

“Come back!”

This story was written a while ago, based on the so called “shell shock” and it’s symptoms. Shell shock is also a big thing in the Second World War, but it gets dubbed “battle fatigue” or “combat stress reaction,” shortened CSR

In No Man’s Land

There he lay,
In crimson bathing,
His lifeless eyes,
His useless body,
Laying still,
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,
And fired,
At that rising sun

And so,
Night took over day,
Yet close,
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,
Than sad

I was allowed to read this poem during Poppy Day, for a group of current soldiers stationed in The Netherlands, back on 11th of November 2018