The Fall Of Providence

In the center of a Dak-To paddy-field laid the last of the dead...smoldering like a box of lit Corona's, strewn....., and the scent was mundungus! Suddenly a stir o'er the pyre split the clouds, fresh air blew hard and fast; the touch-down was deafening. Negotiating the napalmed soil by matchsticks camouflaged men carried out the charred flesh into the grey metal birds, while a woman standing on the field gasped; young village woman, painted, sweating, ....shivering from the heat stroke about her; never stood so close to carnage before, though she'd seen it from afar in Da'Nang, looking up from between bamboo shoots, supine and spread in prostitution- a fair exchange for food and air? And in a flash...all was gone but the indelible stain of horror. And the woman waved at the burning brush- in the empty field around her, symbolic regard for the lost; was all she knew to do. Respect comes in myriad emotions..., that was one of them. Tomorrow War will carry-on somewhere, everywhere, in different style....arena. Still, we continue to boast about how we'd die for our children, want to leave them a better world to raise our children's children. Yet look at the bloody chaos they've been earmarked to inherit? Sometimes i wonder if it's all a twisted reality-show to find out- just how so damn ignorant we can live our mortal lives.......yeah. -Work Written By: F. J. Ryan, Jr / FjR On July 28th,2010 Typed & Posted By: Lauren Marie Ryan On July 29th,2010