The smoke lay across the field in a mist like setting, filtering the sun as it peaked through the tall pines at dusk. The gentle gusts of wind lifted the smoldering ash and haze as if to make it dance and swirl around the meadow.   The strong smell of sulfur was predominant as the cries for help from the wounded echoed in the distance.  My injuries left me paralyzed, only able to view the carnage that had just ensued. A plantation house lay in the distance and its faded paint and sagging porches were evidence that time had taken its toll on a once grand lady of the south. The grass was long and unkempt, the fields over grown with weeds and vines with a small barn laying dilapidated, leaning to one side.  My predicament was dire as the sun set in the October sky. Soon night would descend and a cold chill would creep across the barren lands. All feeling had left my body and only my conscious mind was able to function, as if for only to tell the story of my surroundings to an audience of one. This was not a cheerful tale and one that would not be retold to generations to follow. This was the observations of a broken solder, the back drop was the theater for a stage in which I lay so as to loose sense of the true nature of the moment. A bank of billowy grey clouds drifted over head and the setting sun caught their edges dashing them with pink hues sprayed with red streaks. A cool stiff breeze entered from the woods as if death had ridden in to collect its bounty. The grass bowed to the incumbent and laid a path to its new-found trophies.  My body lay cold and still while I accepted the impending end. As I surveyed my surroundings one last time I noticed a small orange throat bluebird perched on a broken limb which now resting on the cold hard ground. Curiously it peered in my direction and seemed to give a slight nod as if to assure me my passing would be peaceful. Darkness settled over the blood soaked meadow and a feeling of tranquility suppressed a brief panic that arose from my gut. I could feel that I was being delivered to the Lord and that all I knew of the past would quickly fade away as if it were just a forgotten dream. As I drifted unconfined from my body I felt truly free, a spirit released, a soul on its final journey.

Frank M Scavullo January 26, 2013