the bodies cartwheeled through the raw air to land among the rushes at the bottom of the pit. i turned back, reaching to feel an ache in a shoulder-muscle, smearing blood from my worn gloves onto my blue coveralls.
i passed my sister as i crested the hill, nearing the smell of death rising from the still-warm bodies thrown into the back of the small brown truck. i gave her a 'we've gotta' keep truckin'!' smile, a familiar comic. she turned away, disgusted. the death-throes a few minutes earlier had left a spray of dried life's-blood across my cheek. the frozen grass gave under my boots, a pile of severed heads.
i had taken part in slaughter before, but never such killing. this is how easy it is, to destroy things years have tried to build.
and then our exile
Thursday, November 17, 2005 at 10:48 p.m.
Unknown said...
take it you did away with the chickens, then.
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basit said...
you're swinging interpretation around by the tail.
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Unknown said...
quit being philosophical. if you continue on this course language will lose its meaning (:
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basit said...
hi, my name is zachariah, and i went to shaykh yassir's speech.
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Unknown said...
Hi, my name is basit, and i didnt go to shaykh yassir's speech, which is why im making bitter comments like the above.
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basit said...
my name is zach, they call me the cat, i can tell you why you do things 'cause i know where it's at.
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