Black Pouring Despair


Here is a small piece… It’s actually a follow up to Red Seeping Hope. This takes place during the same time but at a different location… Rather than a France under Nazi control, it’s a British Honduras under British control.


Cement mix encrusted boots, heavy and cold, wet by the water flowing forth from an old green hose. The sun was at its highest, baking an earth echoing with the moans and groans of men and women. Sweat filled rivers running high, tension and blood running low. This is the home of the men who have yet to see the cruelties of the infested lands conquered by men with red bands and black crosses. Shivers and fear, the scent known to all men; a universal equalizer: the feeling of being emptied out at the sound of a loaded gun. Boots trotting amidst the dust covered roads, their faces pale, their eyes dull; the men of the north have come to find us.


A great wailing covers the land, like a mid-summer storm, it breeds both tranquility and fear. Adventurers looking for newer horizons, fighters seeking blood and lovers begging for a new beginning; these men brought home the answer. Faces hardened by night terrors, the men who had been at the edge of the world. Grandfather’s taken from their grandsons, husbands ruined and young men dragged away into a forced freedom fight. They make the coalition of the brave, yet no one longs for this life. Their sweat becomes one with the rain and cries, who is greater than God to save them this time?


Beyond a sapphire land, lies a home stained in a ruby-red glow, sharpened by forward-pushing emerald covered automatons wielding wooden clubs whose arrows pierce the early morning veil. A diamond covered night; a golden summer light, yet why does the cold still linger here? Cool, unyielding; the breath of the many who have been trampled by time and lead. Mother calls them demons, father calls them warriors, grandpa calls them his own and I know them as prisoners. Lest we remember their brave sacrifice, I fear time will only repeat itself. I know this to be true and hold this truth deep within my heart. I saw the men who wear scarlet arm bands, elephant faces and wooden bows of lead arrows; these men sought freedom and glory, my people sought food and money and our captors saw only liberty and justice.


There is a land to the north where the skies run dark, the night grows bright, stars fall from the sky and unto the land whose scorched dirt breaths only death and despair.  I know not of the red covered black cross or its idealistic superiority; neither do I see the red, white and blue stricken eagles fighting for our land… I see a jungle, with predators everywhere, and you, my love, a bunny running with regret. We see a calamity, yet, home is now but an ocean away.


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