USA Memorial Day 2019
the young men were sent to die
by the old men who sat by
leaving mothers to cry
and wonder why
their child had to die
gravestones in military cemeteries
that a country’s lost it’s best
we remember those who died
every mother’s and father’s pride
and on this sad day
we can only pray
for permanent peace… someday
people say that they hate war
that they don’t want anymore
massive casualties and gore
yet monuments are built
edifices of national guilt
over the blood that was spilt
glorifying past wars
on distant shores
to settle old scores
unencumbered by bodies they passed by
a flock of traveling souls soaring in the sky
a grieving widow saw them giving her hope
of eternal life and the inner strength to cope
Flash Fiction 400 -words
Deuce McCutcheon went to her funeral a year ago, but was still having trouble believing she was gone forever. Freyja was the love of his life. She was the first, and only, woman who could see behind the hideous mask of his contorted face, which was a result of a terrible childhood injury.
She never hesitated to kiss his twisted lips in public or private. They were soulmates, spending endless hours talking through sleepless nights. Sharing their dreams and inner desires until exhaustion overtook them both. Their years together flew by like days as the lovers languished in the security of one anothers embrace.
As lovers often do, they talked about life after death and what they would do when the horrible time came when one was left without the other. They weighed in on his Christian Heaven, and her Norwegian Valhalla. They explored the concept of life energy moving from one host to the next. They planned elaborate ways of communicating from one realm or dimension to the survivor’s world.
But nothing worked. Deuce grew more depressed every day. On the anniversary of her death he visited her grave. Pulling out a sprig of sage he lit it and passed the smoke back and forth over her resting place. Next, he pulled out his pipe and packed it with a strain of their favorite cannabis, and puffed on it thoughtfully as he looked at her photo which he brought with him.
A thought entered his grief. Hazy and unformed. He realized that he had saved more than just photos of her. He had saved her old cell phone number. He was fumbling for his old-fashioned flip cell phone when the sun parted the dark clouds that hung over the cemetery.
Opening it, he went straight to his address book. There it was. Freyja’s phone number. The chill seemed to go away and he took his jacket off while staring at the number. He was experiencing a strange sense of peace. He pushed her number…and waited. It rang three times. Then he heard Freyja’s high voice…”I wondered when you would call,” she teased him.
The next day a ground’s keeper discovered Deuce’s body, curled up on a grave. He was still clutching his cell phone. Later when asked about his discovery by a reporter, he said, “You should have seen the smile on that guy’s face!”
She opened her eyes and pushed away the darkness of eternity. Not yet ready to submit to that unknown journey. She embraced her life for one more day.
Happy memories gave her strength to ignore her dying body. Her pale eyes still reflected determination and an active imagination.
Her fierce soul fought to stay one more day. She would not let her life slip away silently like it never happened.
Grasping for each hour like a sinking swimmer she held on until the next dawn when her soul let go leading her towards a bright glow and an eternal rainbow.