Almost a prayer

For my children

He took my children from me. And he didn't drag them away kicking and screaming, maybe that would have been better, perhaps I could have saved them as they tried to tear themselves free. But they went willingly, running after the Pied Piper who promised them freedom; and holidays in the sun. And they looked back at me, at first smiling, with looks of hope and gratitude on their faces, "come on dad" they shouted, "it's going to be over soon".

Their smiles turned to furrowed brows of pity and bewilderment, then anger; they couldn't understand why I wouldn't go. "You're being ridiculous" they scolded, "he's just trying to help. If you don't come, it'll never be over. We thought you loved us".

I begged them to stay, I tried to tell them it was a lie, that the piper tricked them into thinking there was a plague so that he could lure them away with a tune that sounded just like the promises he made. Promises of liberation; and cures from the diseases caused by the 'plague'.

But his promises had conditions. Everyone had to go or the promises couldn't be kept, and it would be the fault of those who stayed behind; they would be the reason that the plague couldn't be swept away.

I was never really tempted to go, should I have offered to trade places with them? At least they would be safe. But then they would yearn to come with me, thinking that they would be missing out and the reason for the 'plague' not dissipating. Or should I just have gone? What would my life be without my children anyway? I may as well be dead as left alive wondering what happened to them.

But somehow I convinced myself I couldn't save them if I went with them, and if I still had a chance to save them by staying behind, maybe they would forgive me.

But that hasn't happened yet. No one has been saved as far as I can tell, and my children are still lost.

But the candle in my window is still burning and I pray to God almighty that the piper's tune gets dissonant, as entropy consumes his fife.