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
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, Stargazing 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, Mourning, 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
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.
Do you know this feeling where you just want to be loved? You want to be recognized by someone and know that you are worth loving. It’s like the constant rush for appreciation, not so much love itself. You want to be held, kissed, you want to be important to someone.
And because you’re human, you return that appreciation. After one, maybe more, weeks, it just fades away into nothingness, until you are left with someone who doesn’t love you, but just wants to be loved.
Shame, that’s what washed over me when I realized this. I had used someone for the soul purpose of being told I was loved. I couldn’t see it then, for I was blinded by the idea I could fight everything, because someone thought I could.
The same person had used me too, the exact same reason in his head as it was in mine, so at the end, it didn’t truly feel like I alone was at fault. I wanted to be recognized and he wanted attention, it was a perfect match made in Hell, but it felt like Heaven to me.
Now I’ve realized we both didn’t do anything wrong. We were trying to get back up from our previous battle and just needed a helping hand, a smiling face to tell us we could do it. I was his, he was mine. And now we are ourselves again.