This is not earth.

The sky is black and gray like a funeral. Not at all like the maiden blue, I am use to seeing, dotted with specks of white and pink. The sun which once shone so brightly is covered in a murky color that you could almost smell. A huge yellow ball could barely be made out, obscurely hidden behind the dim vapor that constantly hangs over us. I cannot move.

This is not earth.

The ground has chunks of earth missing, like someone planted trees just to dig them up again. The grass is short and the color of burnt umber. Tree’s that once stood so honorable and strong….gone. They who stood for 100s of years, guarding their sanctum. The branches out stretched to hug the earth that which was once green. These so mighty tress now lay capsized, burning. Their roots upturned and limply hanging on to the soul of their existence. The grass was once long and blowing, shades of green and yellow. Flowers, oh the flowers, pink, purple, red, and violet dotted the landscape. They had flowed in with the breeze, in their own little dance. Had I once lay back in my home town under a solid oak like these? Its shade, that is what I long for now. The kind shade of my oak tree. I cannot feel.

This is not earth.

What was once inside men’s bodies is now spilt on the ground. The tips of grass are splattered with red, thick, liquid; it’s very presence seems to scream evil. The screams of agony and suffering brush against my ear. They whisper and grasp at my slowly dying heart. They want me. Horses whimper and whinny, calling out to their master’s who are supposed to save them. The masters are now the ones who need saved. Men call out to one another; “Water, water!” Just one drop of pure, sweat, liquid. To be able to drink once more of this earth, before the calls of death is too much. Limbs are sprawled on the ground. The nerves keep the fingers twitching and grasping. As if they can still feel pain. The screams, the screams! When will they end! Fire and smoke, gun shots sound out. Each explosion is another beat of my heart. I can’t make a sound.

This is not earth.

I can hear my panted breathing. My body, my 19 year old frame, is failing. My hand presses against a whole in my chest, I stare at the red liquid oozing out. My body is failing. My legs twitch with convulsions. My body is failing. My tongue is swollen beyond its normal size; it can no longer taste the blood in my mouth. My body is failing. My abdomen and chest heave up and down quickly, trying to get air into my body, into my broken lungs. My body is failing. Salty tears run down my face, stinging the bloody scratches made from a dying soldiers finger nails, the dying solider who had been trying to grasp on to life. Like I am now. My body is failing. An unearthly groan is admitted from my parched throat. This is it; my body is going to fail.

This cannot be earth can it? Where are the laughing children? Where are the girls? With their little braids all done up with bows. Where are the boys? Heading out to go fishing, their bare feet leaving tracks in the dirt road. Where are the women? With their long flowing dresses and beautiful kind faces. Where are the men? With the gentle hands, working for their families? Where are the men who do not have broken bodies and unearthly soulless eyes? Where is love? And peace? And hope? Why is there no hope?

I think of the slaves I am freeing. All the beautiful black babies I am freeing. God bless the Africans, who have sinned so less then we. I think of my grandmother’s kind face, her crow feet and crooked loving smile. God bless my grandmother. I think of my grandfather’s face. His brown eyes, tired but laughing. God bless my grandfather. I hope they can take care of them. My brother and sister, oh my sweet brother and sister. My sixteen year old brother who tries to be man. I pray he does not follow me. God bless my brother. My thirteen year old sister, who tries so hard to be brave. I pray who ever loves her, can love her like I do. God bless my sister.

And I think of my young wife. With her sweet blue eyes that cried when a bird died. God, bless her beautiful heart. Her soft brown curls that fit perfectly in my hand. And her frail little hand that didn’t. God, bless my wife.
With a shaking hand and a sob, I take a picture out of my bloody pocket. I have never met this person, but she means the most to me. I look at her with teary eyes. She has my black curly hair, I can tell. I can see she has her mother’s blue eyes. Oh, such a sweet innocent face. Born into the world I am about to leave. Born into such a hard world. Oh, Hope. My baby, my sweet precious baby! Do you know daddy loves you? Do you know I want more than anything to hold you, and hear you call me daddy just once? I love you my sweet Hope. My greatest treasure that I never got to behold. God, bless my daughter.

My heart, I can hear it now. Thumping slower, and slower. My breathing gets frantic. I cry and hold onto the picture. My heart hurts, it flutters. It flutters. It thumps and stops, thumps and stops, then starts, then flutters, trying to do the job that it is no longer able to do. God, hold me! God help me!

I think of the men who all went before me into battle. Who died, who hurt, who cried. My job is easy now, I die for you my beloved. I will die for you now. Oh, my beautiful liberty.

“God bless America.”

Flutter, flutter, flutter…stop.



I open my eyes. The screams and cries are getting distant now. I walk. A blue maiden sky, with pink and white clouds. Long flowing green and yellow grass, dancing. Flowers, so many flowers. All dancing. Tall trees, taller than before. Green leaves, with apples. Children, running and laughing. Dancing and singing, men and women. All colors of the rainbow, black and whites! Together! I see a shining light running towards me. I fall to my knees and cry the happiest tears I have ever cried. The man hugs me, and takes me somewhere. He cries with me, tells me that I still have work to do. To go see my Hope. I lay down and he holds me. I close my eyes. I can hear my heart again. I open my eyes.

I am in a room, the curtains let in the sun. I see grandmother’s kind face, her crow feet and crooked loving smile. I see my grandfather’s face. His brown eyes, worried but laughing. God bless my grandparents.

I see my sixteen year old brother who is trying to be man, but is crying. I see my thirteen year old sister, who does not care about being brave, and smiles through her tears. God bless my siblings.

I see my young wife. With her sweet blue eyes that cried when a bird died, but are crying even more now. With her beautiful heart that she gave to me. Her soft brown curls that fit perfectly in my hand. And her frail little hand that clutches it now. God bless my wife.

Then I see a body next to mine. I have never met this person, but she means the most to me. I look at her with teary eyes. She has my black curly hair, and her mother’s blue eyes. That look beautiful on such a sweet innocent face. Born in to the world I left behind, too now have returned to. Born into such a beautifully hard world. “Oh, Hope. My baby, my sweet precious baby! Do you know daddy loves you?” I croak. “Do you know what I wanted more than anything? How I wanted to hold you, and hear you call me daddy just once? I love you my sweet Hope. My greatest treasure that I thought I would never got to behold. God, bless you my daughter.” I hold her and cry, as she whispers’ daddy in my ear.

And I see the American flag outside the window.
I see the men who all went before me into battle. Who died, who hurt, who cried. I have returned to thee, oh America. God bless America.

I close my eyes, and think of him who made all these things and more. I think of where I had been, where I was before. And I know, that where have just come from;

That it was not earth.

~The End~