By Joshua R. Wood
Bullets rang like bells in infinity’s hall. The Holocaust’s breath traced my lips as the Tree of Life’s fruit flooded the floor.
We beat swords into plowshares and reap this harvest.
“Shalom is Shalom is Shalom,” my mother would say, but hatred laced the lead that traced my flesh.
In my final moment I remembered Messiah; I remembered how it rains differently in the spring; I remembered my brother’s birthday cake with the Star and the Pittsburgh Steelers. Funny the things.
The firing ceased with the pain. But Kristallnacht’s still broken glass, Auschwitz yet leaks its gas to Earth’s corners.
Shalom.
“I remember how it rains differently in the spring” I live for pharases like that. Thank you. Strong imagery.
Beautifully done.