Thunder and Lightning
The wind of a warm saddened summer’s afternoon caressed against his war-torn face. He looked into the open field, watched the memories of a life pass him by. He grew up on this farm, spent his every rainy day looking out beyond the horizon dreaming of seeing the big bad world. Oh how he wished to go back in time, to a moment when games and laughter could be felt in the air. John opened the gold etched vase, held it tightly between his hands. He stared into the vase that held what remained of a great man. He wished with all his heart for the roles to be reversed, if only he could take back the choices of his past. He stood in the midst of a battle for years, he watched life and death meet at every bomb blast, at every house, in every person’s eyes but now he stands in the field of dreams he once lived in with the remains of his father. Life is like a coin with 2 sides, beautiful but cruel. Be it in war or peace, time is the one weapon you can never evade. He closed his eyes, took a breath and recalled the last words of this great man, “Life will give you things even dreams can’t, it may not be noticed at first, sometimes it never is, but when you truly live a life-like a dying man, your eyes will see far beyond the horizon my son. Don’t you dare give up on life, don’t you give up on love and don’t you give up on yourself because when you’re lying in your own bed ready to leave this life, you’ll feel proud of that which means the world to you. I am proud of you my boy.” His heart bursting with emotion, almost too much for his body to control. How does one put to rest someone you’ve known from the very first moment you opened your eyes to this world? The person who gave you life and protected you from the evil and from your own stupidity. His thoughts were clouded by the pain of losing the one person that gave him reason to survive when all his brothers in arms turned into collateral damage in war. Home is where the heart is, this land was home because of the man who lived on it. Not only is part of his soul attached to this field, it is a part of him. He shifted his blue eyes to the age old tree at the top of a hill, it had lived life with them. Just like the field, the barn, the old tree and him, they all were the legacy of this fallen soul. If he felt like a good son he may have been able to face this, he may have been able to look beyond this farm without regret or fear. He looked at his badge that was meant to represent the ‘HOME’ he fought for. His eyes filled with anger, his right hand lifted to his left shoulder, gripped the badge and ripped it right off and not a second later, it fell to the ground beside his foot. Right at this moment he knew what it felt like to be a victim of deaths curse. He felt the pain of those he lost and those lives he stole from others. He knew what had to be done, there was no escaping this fate but there was enough time to make up for time lost. His hands lifted just high enough to angle the vase to his chest, he looked towards the sun, the wind now pushed him forward and as he dropped his hands, he watched the ashes of life return back to the Earth. Like Thunder and Lightning, what remained of his life would be dedicated to impacting the next generation to come.He would give every part of himself to living life tenaciously. A war hero who has the greatest inner battle to conquer with time. There was every reason in the world for John to feel dead, he knew it, but every part of him would now fight for feeling alive again. As long as he lived so would his old man and that, was the one reason he could hold onto. One day, this place will be home to another great man.
I wrote this a long time back whilst listening to a song. Something about it, made me feel dead inside. At the time, I was what many of us call, F***ed up. It was an emotional roller coaster as a teen. Some parts of me believe that if it weren’t for questioning my worth, I wouldn’t have found my dreams or passion. I tried leaving it as natural as possible, flaws and all, sometimes it’s these pieces that hold the most meaning or significance to a writer.
One of those dreams I have is buying a massive stretch of land and building a house on it myself – I love open space, farmland and the beauty of nature.
Thanks for reading, mate!