Wednesday, 6 April 2011

The Eyes of a Child

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On the cliff top, he stood. A breeze cascaded past him, tousling his long white hair and whispering in his ear secrets that only he could know. A veteran of the earthly toil, and perhaps aged past the years that life had breathed into his frame. Turning his expression downward, he surveyed with sad eyes the valley that he had once called home. He thought to himself about all of the times he had there once upon a time. “Why couldn’t he be a child again,” he wondered, as he stared at the land. Trees at either end were now nothing but dead wood, having been fallen in the struggle of battle. Whole clods of dirt were upturned throughout, leaving the valley virtually empty of grass. Bodies of men were scattered about, still clutching their shameless implements of destruction. They were now unknowing and uncaring of who was the enemy, and who the ally. Wherever he cast his glance, the same desolation littered the landscape. He turned his head, feeling sick to the stomach. So much death, so much ruin, why? He retreated within his mournful mind, trying to grasp the tendencies of man toward utter devastation; what a waste it was, a tragic pursuit. A single tear emerged from his eye and, traveling down his weathered cheek, dangled from his chin. Carrying in it every remorse and sorrow present in the old travelers experienced heart. Then it fell to the ground, nourishing the Earth and rekindling her passion for life. So many times he had run through this valley, not having a care in the world, not needing to, now look at it. He remembered like it was yesterday, everyday of his childhood.

It was the first day of school, the children jumped with excitement. “Oh boy! Oh boy!” one child yelled, “Here comes the bus guys!” They tumbled on the bus with fear and excitement entwined. Another child says directly to the old woman driving the bus, “you smell funny.” She gives him a glace of anger and tells him to sit down. “Kids, so truthful, huh.” she uttered. Each child called a seat as if it were their own; the bus driver looks in the mirror and yells at the children to stay seated. In the next second they were off, for their first day of school. A whole new world had begun in their lives, and they didn’t even realize it. As the man pondered about his past, he reflected on how he thought when he was a child. He had never realized how vicious and heartless individuals really are, glancing across the land once again. “Children are so blind to the truth.” He whispered, as if someone were sitting next to him. He had just turned thirteen, thought he knew everything, which most 1 year olds do. It was a glorious day out; he had just gotten home from school. He had one older brother who was nineteen, whom he strived to emulate. His mother had just received a phone call, which had upset her; he asked her what was wrong. She looked at him as if she would never see him again. She started crying, and ran into her bedroom. What could have happened, he thought? Moments later he hears his mother and father speaking, it was about his brother. He puts his ear up to the door with curiosity, hearing things he would rather not. The sadness of his mother’s voice made him want to cry. His brother was in jail for rape and murder. He had a court hearing in a few days and they were sure he would have the life sentence. How could this have happened?! It must be a mistake, he thought. He bust through his parents door screaming that his brother would never do anything as awful as that! His father grabbed him by the arm and tried to explain it to him, he wouldn’t believe him, never! He ran into his own room to find solace, “He must not be telling the truth!” he said, trying to convince himself that he was right. The old man starts weeping, just remembering how naive he was, made him cry. After that court hearing, he never saw his brother again face to face. Everything was a lie; everything he had that he knew about his brother was a lie. He just couldn’t understand how he never knew the truth before he did. He reminisces on the quote by Denis Diderot “We swallow greedily any lie that flatters us, but we sip only little by little at a truth we find bitter.” “That is so true, he thinks. Why couldn’t I have understood sooner? Maybe I could have done something about it.” Though in reality, he has just now came to the realization that he was only telling himself lies. He stood there for long moments, finally, turning to the ruined valley before him. He hefted up his walking staff with an undeniable determination etched on his face. He was going to find his truth somehow. Yet, he realizes that the only way he would know the real truth was in his own death. His thoughts went to Jesus, and everything he couldn’t wait to ask him. “Take me Lord. I’m ready.”

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