The Days when the Stars Wept
To be a youth was a curse in nineteen-sixties in the tiny corner of the world; the peninsular divided in two, South and North; joining in the bloody demos, after school hours, like extra-curricular classes. mostly out of patriotism; to rebuild the loose system. the more often the parties went on, the more of them fell, the petals in the storm. Everyone prayed in silence for miracle, to save them. Then the time had come; the night sky above the city was blazing; the air smelled of gunpowder. Everyone's heart leaped, but no one talked about it, in fear of the dark net that might swallow them. the old leader's demise, and the General assumed the Blue House as the frontier of the new age. Many years later, the childhood friends still gathered in memory of their brothers who vanished in the night wind. ©Byung A. Fallgren
Byung A. Fallgren 
Such a powerful evocation of an awful time for you. `”the petals in the storm” is a perfect image.
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Thanks so much, Derrick
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Hard times, dangerous times. We never really get over our suffering and loss.
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Hi Byungafallgren, the way you write is so good but oh this is so sad…don’t take it personal though. What is the correct way to say your name?
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First, thank you for the kind word about my writing. Byung is my first name, pronounce it as bi-ung. Thank you for asking. 😊
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Thanks so much, Jerry. Although I hadn’t lost my brother during those dangerous times, I had seen many college students who joined the protesters perished by brutal police force. Those days were etched in my young heart and would haunt to this day. And what’s happening now even here in America is a constant reminder.
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