Bittersweet Symphony

Life has a melody to it, doesn't it? With every breeze, with every step, with every person and with everything there is a certain drum beat to our existence.

And everytime I hear that someone dies in Iraq, my heart skips a beat and the music is suddenly switched off.

I've been given the lecture that "America can't pull out now!" I've been told that there are strategies and logistics that must be performed and sought out. I've been "reminded" that war is a necessity as old as birth itself. I've argued about life time and time again--but you cannot convince me that this is worth it. You CANNOT convince me that this is worth it at all anymore.

I wonder, for the soldiers that have died--ALL of them--did they want to leave like this? Did they believe in this war so adamently that they wanted to DIE for it? I wonder.

And when I hear the ages, I want to scream: 21, 22, 23, 18, 19...and my age, 20. I wonder what they wished for in their lives? To get married someday? To have children? Maybe they did have children. Maybe those children are lonely now. And their wives. And their husbands.

How many more mothers have to cry over a fallen son? How many more fathers have to grieve over a fallen daughter?

And war...I don't know what to even think of war. In a century so much more tolerant and sophisticated than all the previous centuries, this is what we resort to? How can humans do this to one another?

I understand what you're thinking. In a world of pride and power this is what happens. But look at the cost. Take a LOOK at what we've lost here and show me what we've gained. The loss is so much more outstanding. It's a hideous thought.

I guess that I don't know what to say on the issue. I feel as though we will always have war because we know no other way. We stick to what we know, don't we? In a world of power, lives are always lost...

How many tears have to be shed into the wretched dirt that has been drenched with blood so many times before? We know how this story ends, so why do we keep reading the pages? More death, and what is to gain except power and lonliness?

There is nothing I can say to explain the true horror of death. I could use all the similies and metaphors in the world, but no literary device would suffice. I think it's agreed that the only way to explain death is through silence.

I guess all I can say to end this thought that has been building inside of me is a quote from one of the greatest presidents, Abraham Lincoln. I'd think you'd agree:

"Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man’s character, give him power."