The shifting winds swirled the smoke and a small puff of ash into his face. With a twitch he came out of his dream of peace and home. He knew that he must find the strength to lay his wife to rest. He knew where he would place her, it would be under the shade of their Cyprus tree. She loved that tree so much. It provided wonderful shade when the burning sun was high and she loved to sit under it's outspread fingers. He found some water in an unbroken jar and with his head wrap he very tenderly wiped the grim from her face. The water ran down her cheeks and streaked the ash and smudge. In a moment her face was clean and he ran his fingers through her ebony hair. At that moment the pain of his broken heart took him to her side. Lying under the stars in the cool of the evening he would get lost in the smell of her hair and the olive oil that smoothed her hands each day as the bread was made.
He placed her body under the tree and set about gathering the stones to give her protection. He made his way from her grave to the ruins of his home, then placing one of the stones on his shoulder carrying it to her resting place. As he made his way back and forth from the house to the grave anger began growing inside of him. Soon with each stone he was vowing to kill the butchers. As he placed the last stone he collapsed in the dirt next to her side. Again the tears began to stream down his cheeks. But this time, now, as every tear ran down he vowed to kill those who took away from him the most precious gift he ever had.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
His mind was reeling, his eyes not able to focus on what was in front of him. No, No, No he was screaming as he fell down in the dirt. In front of him laid his wife. Her beautiful face was dirty with smudge and next to her a broken pot. Her robes were torn almost in half and her hands were still clutching the tears in her last attempt to cover herself. Sobbing, the tears in his eyes blurring her beauty, he crawled to her side. Picking her head up he cradled her in his arms. Now his sobbing became mixed with faint moans as he rocked back and forth caressing the face of his beloved. Time stood still as he looked into her face and relived the pinnacles of his love. Images of his wedding, the birth of their children, scenes so fresh he was lost for moments.
After a while his tears ran dry and his voice produced no sound. He looked around at the home he had built for his wife and children. He looked at every stone and remembered laying it in place. He looked at once was the door he built and now there remained only a charred reminder of the love he always found on the other side of that door. Still holding her he smelled the bread she made and how good it tasted with cheese and fish. She took such pride in their little home and now it was ash and dirt, smoldering wood and small pools of water that couldn't quench the fires of evil and destruction.
After a while his tears ran dry and his voice produced no sound. He looked around at the home he had built for his wife and children. He looked at every stone and remembered laying it in place. He looked at once was the door he built and now there remained only a charred reminder of the love he always found on the other side of that door. Still holding her he smelled the bread she made and how good it tasted with cheese and fish. She took such pride in their little home and now it was ash and dirt, smoldering wood and small pools of water that couldn't quench the fires of evil and destruction.
Friday, February 19, 2010
A Melted Heart
He could see the smoke from almost a half days walk. As his eyes took in the sight of smoke a sense of dread began rising in his soul and his stomach churned. The nagging thoughts of the Roman butchers now consumed his thinking as well. His pace quickened and soon he was running. The faster he ran the stronger the panic in his soul increased. He must have run the last hour and the fear and terror only grew stronger. Soon the smell of the burning village was filling his nostrils and his stomach was fighting back its screaming need to retch. He knew now that he was only moments from the rise that spread out before home.
He stopped his run so abruptly that he almost fell headlong to the dirt. Getting up on his knees his eyes couldn't take in what was in front of him. His peaceful village was in ruins, flames still consuming, still eating, still gorging themselves on the homes of his friends. Very slowly he started to walk into the village. On the dusty road he saw the dead, mules, goats, chickens and fowl lying in the hot sun. In front of some of the homes he saw water pots, some broken and some still filled with water. Pots making a feeble attempt to quench the flames of death and destruction. The first body was that of a man lying near a doorway. He couldn't recognize him because the flames and the butcher's swords had accomplished their grisly duty.
He stopped his run so abruptly that he almost fell headlong to the dirt. Getting up on his knees his eyes couldn't take in what was in front of him. His peaceful village was in ruins, flames still consuming, still eating, still gorging themselves on the homes of his friends. Very slowly he started to walk into the village. On the dusty road he saw the dead, mules, goats, chickens and fowl lying in the hot sun. In front of some of the homes he saw water pots, some broken and some still filled with water. Pots making a feeble attempt to quench the flames of death and destruction. The first body was that of a man lying near a doorway. He couldn't recognize him because the flames and the butcher's swords had accomplished their grisly duty.
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