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The War
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WpMetadataReadOngoing<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Thu, Apr 16, 2015
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Poetry
I didn't blow her flame of anguish. I let it burn. I was a mere element in the battlefield. My heart ran cold and my wrinkled bare hands were soiled. My shadow was torn into bits under the unlit drowning sun. I was alone. She was warning me about the wrong I was doing to her. She wanted the change. It was the beginning of the war, she led. The soil whipped through my wet legs. It was time, she was burning wild fire. Sitting by the seashore under the drowning sun Suddenly awakened by the loud battle that had began I saw an agonizing scar in the grey clouds above The sunshine that had been there for awhile, was sent in exile It was dark, I stood as a witness for the outrageous scenes The sea roared in response to the thunder that struck The sky was broken by the hazardous light The sand below my feet feared the war The wind was brave as it blew aloud The trees shattered, rain, endlessly unraveling. I stood there strong and still Everything was in motion, the warriors didn't stop The shoreline wasn't visible it had disappeared in war Nature was enraged and it's elements had come to life I was all alone hiding behind the broken umbrella I had seen fear that I never witnessed before It rained and the intense sound of thunder, grew through the ever growing darkness I waited for the war to come to rest, finally it did The dust whipped past my legs and arms The growls that sounded boisterous began to calm The sea fell silent and so did the clouds I was drenched and cold but was patient all this while I had to leave and just looked below, My broken shadow was about to go, it was dark. My heart was bare and as caught my breath I just turned around to go home.
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SAM

The land they crossed was beautiful, the land was not flat but sloped into valleys and hills peppered with trees that gave shade and small streams, as they moved Sam spoke to him about the dry season, details of the land and where water could be found, and anything she thought would interest the man. Running out of things to say she turned to him and asked, " any questions?" " not regarding the land, would you mind answering a few personal ones?" Bryan asked Sam shook her head, "yes, I mind, I don't particularly like it, no offense." "None taken, just curious to know why you want to be mistaken for a boy." Sam reigned in her horse, and waited until he did the same. She pulled one leg out of the stirrup and placed it over the horn where she rested her elbow on her knee and placed her face on her hand, "think about this," she said nudging her horse so that she almost touched the man, "would we be riding here,like this, alone, if I looked like Cecile? All grace and delicacy?" Sam's eyebrows rose and an impish smile spread on her face as she watched Bryan's face change as her words sunk, and he pulled back. I wrote this story in the nineties, for my mother who was an avid romance reader and Barbara Cartland follower, she had been diagnosed with lung cancer and there wasn't much to do. Since we lived far apart I wrote this and other stories to entertain her and show my love. She was a brave woman who ventured from her motherland, Germany and married a man from Peru which language she did not even speak. I based most of my stories in her circumstances of not fitting in, she went to a country where she knew no one, and there she stayed for the love of one man.

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