Thursday, August 17, 2017

I was part of a wound that is never to be forgotten: unlike the people of today I remember the blood in all its red horror.

Parson Graham, Confederate Ghost...

I do not recognize what America has become, but I have made my peace with that. When you lose a war you cannot expect the future to make much sense to you...

I lost a brother and three cousins in the war, one cousin of which fought on the side of the North. I visit their graves, and imagine what could have been. All these years later, I see that when America gets a fever the blood runs hot and violence rules the day. The violence of today seems to have less Honor, but I suppose I would think that: it is a different time, but it seems somehow to become more of the same...

I never owned a slave. I see what has happened to the Negroes and I wonder if they are really any better off; again, maybe that is just the world through my eyes. It seems the Negro is haunted by a past whose shadow they cannot escape, and this shadow makes them angry at the sun. Of course, I cannot escape the past either, which is why I wander this world as a spirit that has not made it to Heaven...

I was part of a wound that is never to be forgotten: unlike the people of today I remember the blood in all its red horror. And there was so much blood: limbs cut off by saws, brains blasted from their skulls, horrible gut shots where death seemed to take forever to come...

Maybe every generation or two blood needs to be recklessly spilled, to test the people and the peace. At least that is what I have seen, and I don't expect anything different to come. I am Parson Graham, Confederate Ghost...



I am Laslo.



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