109 Words Plus A Sentence: Ghosts Of Dachau

Once again, I am “mashing” my response to Master Class 2014 with the Friday Fictioneers prompt, and I do this for two reasons primarily.

Firstly, it permits me to somewhat “jump” the 100 word requirement for the latter. And secondly, it allows me to once again recommend that most of you should really try your hand at the former.

As always, I hope you enjoy, experience.

hay-bales-sandra-c

Copyright – Sandra Crook

I observed the shit-stained haystack once more.

Had its movement been caused by the mere trundling of the cart, or were itchy passengers buried within?

As I wondered, I pondered… what are we doing? Why are we doing this?

I’d killed before. But he, a soldier, was armed with the same professional bloodlust as I. I would never forget, as out of breath, he dropped both arms to his side, still gripping the knife in his left hand, while his brain slowly acknowledged my round, that had just torn through it.

Yes, I’d killed before. But this was different. These, mere civilians.

Children.

Children deemed unfit due merely to their heritage, their identity, their God.

Our God.

My Gott…!

I closely observed the haystack once more, before waving on the shit-stained skittish driver with his dubious cargo, whispering to no one as they pensively passed, “Gott Sie segnen…”

•••

It’s no great secret that I plug-in a song at the end of every post, and it’s also no great secret that I never really push it upon you. But just this once, please, listen…

.

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responsibility of change

Much like Alex states, this is “beautiful on multiple levels.” And painful. And true. It’s time. Time for “us to change us.”

is Love alive?

O come, O come, Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear

Please, appear. Just appear. It’s time.

Israel is so much larger, scarier than it was before, and we have become a disease upon ourselves. We rape what we can’t have, we steal instead of earn, we lord over each other with wealth, and possession, and finery. We chase success instead of satisfaction, we ravage instead of grow. We hurt instead of heal. We hate instead of love. We turn everything that is blessed into a sin. Simply because. Simply because the two basic rules you gave us, rules that even a small child understands, we have decided we can not – will not – accomplish. We will NOT love you above all else. We will NOT love our neighbor as ourselves. We will not, damn You. You, in Your wisdom, offered us a choice. We, in our willed ignorance, have made it.

Please appear. Please. So that we might finally be able to…

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

•••

ARGYLE: Mind if I play some tunes?

MCCLANE: How 'bout some Christmas music?

ARGYLE: That is Christmas music.

This is Christmas music… As “Christmas” as I’m able to provide today.

Today’s post, postponed

Honest and true, I actually did have words to place here today.

But they failed to inspire me nearly as much as the poem that appeared in the back of the program produced by Roswell Park Cancer Institute for their memorial service. A celebration of sorts held this past Wednesday, for all the patients who had lost their lives to cancer within the first six months of 2012 – my dad having made the cut by just one day.

I hope Casey and Mary are reading along today, as this poem – I feel at any rate – really nails the truth of it all. The whole of who we are as a species. I hope you’re all reading today actually, and I hope that some of you decide to share this in your own fashion, as it’s hardly people like Casey, Mary and myself alone who need to be reminded of the following…

When I die
Give what’s left of me away
To children
And old men that wait to die.
And if you need to cry,
Cry for your brother
Walking the street beside you.
And when you need me,
Put your arms
Around anyone
And give them
What you need to give to me.

I want to leave you something,
Something better
Than words
Or sounds.

Look for me
In the people I’ve known
Or loved,
And if you cannot give me away,
At least let me live in your eyes
And not on your mind.

Researching this poem further, I found that there were two more verses to it as well. Of the two, the second-to last didn’t really strike me, but the final one did…

Love doesn’t die,
People do.
So, when all that’s left of me
Is love,
Give me away.

~ Merrit Mallory

•••

Amazing, right? Of course love doesn’t die.

It never has.

How surprising is it then, that we must constantly remind ourselves of this?

More may be coming on the subject, as this idea slowly begins to weave its way into another post currently under construction. In the meantime, let’s listen to a little ditty that one of my dearest friends in all the world just introduced me to. Seems only appropriate to share it today…