IN THE SHADE OF FREEDOMS GROWTH
Then there was the woman who lost two sons to that war in a far away jungled land.
One to a bullet fired from a never seen enemy snipers gun which pierced his heart. He fell and died face down in bloodied sand. he never quite knew why he was there, and was puzzled even more by the actions of his brother, the one who didn't care.
Just at the moment he drew his last breath, with comrades returning fire at an invisible fear, he looked towards the setting sun, Westward, to the land he called home. He couldn't speak, and slowly, exhaling, his eyes closed upon one silent, lonely tear.
They told her he was a Hero, a proud son of Liberty! She got a folded flag, and a Telegram from some General she never knew, who said her son had died so that all men could be free. She thought about their words, the explanations were thin at the very least, but, finally, she understood and agreed. What he had done was good, and his death was not in vain. And, in his name, she went out back, and in the yard, planted a tree.
The other to a billy club wielded by an Officer of the Peace. A man blinded by fear, who was never able to understand how Americans could demonstrate, desecrate, and refuse to obey the orders of the Government, and have such disrespect for the Police. The club crushed the fragile bones just above and in front of his left ear. And, as he fell to the Officers feet, his eyes turned Southward to a far away land he called home. He thought of the brother who would kill innocent people in a far away jungled land, and he wondered why God had ever bothered to create such a man?
Just at the moment he drew his last breath, with comrades shouting "Peace" and "Stop the War", exhaling, he lowered his head into the pool of blood staining the steps of the Courthouse door. A loving comrade reached down and from his cheek, wiped away one silent lonely tear..
They told her he wasn't responsible for his actions, but that pot had destroyed his sense of right and wrong. They gave her his few possessions, bundled up in a pillow case, tie-dyed and closed with a long since discarded sandal's thong. She thought about their words, the explanations were thin at the very least, but, finally, she understood and disagreed. What he had done was good. He died so that all men could be free, and his death was not in vain. And, in his name, she went out back, and in the yard, planted a tree.
Then there was the little boy next door who loved the little girl with pigtails and a turned up nose. They met every summer evening in the shade of the twin trees that grew in the back yard of the rundown house where that old crazy lady lived. Their love was stronger than their fear of her finding them together there, so they embraced and dreamed of tomorrow.
And they never saw the sad old eyes behind the darkened window pane. And, just as she drew her last breath, she looked again toward the twin trees, wiped away one silent lonely tear. Slowly exhaling, she smiled and knew that, after all, her sons had not died in vain.
p.rehbein
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