Friday, February 1, 2008
A STUMBLING BLOCK ON FREEDOM'S WALK
Hate is only four letters. Whatever the word, we know when it is hate. Filled with poison it coats and clogs. Filthy swamp green or moldy black they spit in the face of all who oppose them. Just how small are they? I saw it cut across one heart like a finely honed saber, leaving hurt and anger. It was the stinking mud of mouth. The final blow felled him as he watched his child hurt in confusion at the cursing of all her dad believed. Many yell ‘no more war’, and continue to espouse this gall...
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