Friday, September 2, 2011

He Did As His Father Asked

       (1) For some, this time of year is for thanks, for some, the time is to morn, for at the hands of non-understanding men; we lost him 33 years after he was born. (2) Given to us from a pure mother and father and lived among the people that he could truly help, forced to walk bearing a cross to the place of his death, speared, spat upon with a body covered in whelps. (3) A loving son sent to bring the word and salvation to a world that had somehow turned away from their lord, a nation that had given thanks to a false god who promised riches of this world as their reward. (4) We could not keep our teacher from being crucified, the man that through his father walked on water and healed the blind, he fed the multitudes that listened with a hunger, and he turned the water into wine. (5) The men took and killed his son but only did as their father asked as well; for they have secured their place now in the afterlife with their father in the depths of hell. (6) Twelve followed closely in his footsteps and shared the bread and wine at his last meal, some in his darkest hour would forsake him as this man and his followers they would surely now kill. (7) This humble Son of God upon the cross would die that day and bring forgiveness to us all, he could have saved his self the suffering but to his father for help he did not call. (8) These days we exist in are certainly numbered and the end must be coming quick, for many of the prophecies spoken of in Revelations have come to past and there can be no immediate fix. (9) A life that should be a mirror image of that which the Son also lived, a man that we should give our all to and follow who in his wisdom has the compassion to forgive. (10) The chronicles of our lord Jesus Christ, teach that man should dwell in harmony and practice unconditional love, we all must answer for this life now we lead, let us be judged by the supreme being up above. (11) This man awoke from death to once again take his place in Heaven at his father’s side, these laws past down through the generations are ours and we are given the choice if we choose to abide. (12) Listen to your heart my brothers and sisters and know that Jesus is your true savior and friend, if a life worth living was your testament here on earth then in the book of life shall your name be found in the end.

                                                                                         Mark Hall


    The droplets freefall from a saturated sky, on suicide missions, they plummet to the land and waters below. The earth can no longer absorb this rush of unbridled currents as the height of the newly made lakes and rivers rise. The rain has been on a non-stop course for three days now, with no end in the immediate future, we must seek elevated ground for survival. The sirens of the Emergency Management Agency still linger throughout the air as the level of water gains strength and grows higher, threatening our way of life, the lands we harvest, the cattle grazing in the pastures, all we hold true. It seems as if I have been living on a boat for days, in reality its been merely hours, how I long to touch the dirt with my bare feet. You would have to be a part of this to feel the desperation in people, as they cling to the roofs of their houses, the branches of trees, braving their souls to rescue items from their sunken homes, to make sure the pets are out and surviving, it is difficult to brake the human spirit, even harder to wipe it from existence. We are fully aware of the rebuilding that must immediately follow as the waters someday reside back to their confined dams, those that have lived here for any amount of time realize that this is nothing more than a inconvience to them. I fill chilled as I struggle to hold on to the side of the barn, the swiftly moving stream wishing to take me with it. I no longer see the boat that had enabled me to move about and keep me from death. This old nail was my lifeline and had held tight in the water logged wood. Grandpa had hammered it in years ago after a fishing trip that had yielded numerous catfish, it also was the cause of my sisters bad eye having had run into it during a game of hide and seek. It kept me from freely floating through the waters and finally coming to rest somewhere on the murky bottom. I do not know how long I was there before my rescuers found me and took me from that place, but days later when I returned there was no nail in the wood, even more compelling was that I could not find any trace of a nail ever being there. Still I believed. The water is still ankle high in places and most have returned home to begin salvaging what they can, even Jake made it home. A neighbor said he had swam over two miles on his journey before finding a place to rest and wait it out. The two-year-old Lab was just happy to be home, and every now and then I go to the barn and take another look for that piece of metal that had saved me. I think I need to go into town and buy some new supplies, and wouldn’t you just know it, there is a flat tire on the truck, a nail in the tire, an old rusty used nail, could this be it? It must be, guess I’ll change the tire and still make it before 5:00 pm. On the way I was stopped and learned of the fate of those traveling this road only minutes earlier. A busload of convicts had escaped and had flagged down at least ten motorists in the last thirty minutes and all had been murdered, not a one left with air in their lungs. Had my life been saved yet again, had the nail somehow rescued me from an almost certain fate. I don’t know how much you can read into this and if you wish to believe any, but I took that nail years later and it was the first to go into the wood on our new home. We placed that nail in the baby’s room, right over the head of where the crib would be. We think of it as the fourth nail, the one not used on Jesus, the one he left behind to give us hope and belief of his deliverance. We stopped painting over it a couple years back as the rust always showed back through the paint, we believe now that the nail bleeds, it reminds us of him, of his love. 
                                                         Mark Hall

A Wilted December

Dedicated to my dad.

    I cry a lot when I think about him being gone, I know to a better place he has made his journey but goodbye I did not get to say. I miss him now and I know that there will be times that I look for him to be there and solve those problems that arise that he always knew how to handle. I knew that he was proud of me even though his words may never say that exactly, he had his way of communicating to me that I understood. I never did enough in his eyes and he always knew which buttons to push to drive me to do better even if I felt I had given my best, there is more out there and so much more you can be and accomplish, he would say. He lived here in this world for seventy-three years and did many diverse things in his time. I never knew the normal father-son relationship that so many kids have and enjoy, I was born late in his era and so much we could not do, hindered by his advanced age and physical limitations. I learned a lot from that old man and he tried to instill in me things he had come by in his life and to pass that on to maybe my kids one day. I miss him, wish I could see him and tell him that, tell him I love him and that I’m sorry for not doing with my life what he wanted, for not being the man he knew I could be. Mom left when I was three, and that was fine, dad did a very good job being mom, and always made sure we knew he loved us and would do his everything to make sure we did not hurt from the void. I hurt now remembering the times dad asked me to bring him home from the nursing facilities just so he could be at home with me, telling me how much he missed me and wishing I could get down there to see him everyday. You look back and realize that he never did ask for much, just to be wanted and loved, to be with family. I know he passed with no pain and I know he is in Heaven and still I cry and miss him, there is so much I want to do to try and please him so when he looks down he can proudly smile and say, “That’s my boy”. Dad, I’m sorry I was not there when you went home, holding your hand and let you know you were not alone, that I understood you were tired and you had made your peace with him. I would take it all back if I could dad, would have loved to have had you here for Christmas dad, I miss you. You left this world on December 02, God called his child home, what do I do now dad? I hope you found it in your heart to forgive me and that I did what I thought best when it came to your care. I am so sorry dad. December will never be the same for me, a part of me died this month with you and I will never forget that feeling or what was took from me. You!

                                                                               Mark Hall

This House Empty

     Not a day passed never a minute unheard, the sound of the beating, the loving, the tender look. It was a life familiar, it existed with no boundaries it was a common bond shared, much more than words. A simple breath inhaled, two hands clasped tight, a long journey before the both, together they both stand. The way mom looked at him, the years in her eyes, dad never would cry, but he loved mom so. I believe that I to shall find, a once in a life fairy tale, children on their knees nightly, sending prayers up high. I make my own mistakes and I still lean on their beliefs, with time I will become, they will be so proud. Listen tirelessly with your soul, follow their once paths, and strive to be better than they, cling to your deepened roots. Life’s lesson is happiness; find that treasure for it is yours deservingly, remember be a humble servant, loving unconditionally, loving all. I feel fortunate to have one good friend, this is us all, words are no longer allowed, glances between loves exchanged. Find now your destiny, follow that which beckons, as we part the waters between, know always that our hearts are intertwined. Memories will secure the links, the bond now strengthened, and my life was touched in the moment your life overlapped mine. Time will once again permit the meeting of since lost souls, and until that day cometh, I worry the thought of who now watches over you. Your defenses lessened, I do know your passion for life, be a warrior; never relinquish the sword you so proudly carry. I too shall wait, until the sun yet blossoms the gray morn, may your journey end quickly, may your feet once again find my doorstep. I bare the scars of life, the sleeping feel pain no longer, we search aimlessly for that, the person that feels like home for us. I found you, I am home!

                                                                           Mark Hall

September Forever

A September day forever frozen in time, a moment we shall never forget.
We lost our freedom, many family members, and hero’s we had never met.

For on that early September morn, our security and trust in our nation was lost.
Our President, he vowed, to bring them all to justice, no matter what the cost.

Families even now are still broken as the war keeps loved ones distances away.
We all pray now for a soldier’s quickened return, we all count down to the day.

Until the day we bring them all home, each and every soul that made their way.
To a faraway, foreign, desolate land, to fight for those who are weak, every day.

The fight still lingers, hearts now heavy, though we are ten years passed the date.
What was taken from so many in vain we hope to never see another duplicate.

We lost a father, a mother, a son, a daughter, grandparents, an uncle an aunt.
They were hero’s rushing up flights of stairs, a group on a plane making a stance.

We owe our lives, our freedom, and our security, to those still fighting the fight.
On this 10th anniversary, we are encouraged to see, a tunnel with the ending light.

We all can remember that morning, what we were doing and where we were at.
That time is frozen in our hearts and our minds, a moment, 9/11, will forever last.

                                                                        Mark Hall

Thursday, September 1, 2011

All Have Fallen On This Day

September 11, 2001 @ 1:05 pm

         Have we fallen as a nation, or will in the days, weeks and months to come, will we enjoy or finest moment in history. We have fell victim to rape, mass devastation and an abundance of involuntary fatalities. Shocked beyond words, we seek answers that at this time may not be forthcoming. The smoke filled sky gives way to structures that exist now only in our mind. This 21st century war has laid waste to our beliefs and reality draws upon the truth that we, as great as we think we are, we are not untouchable. How in another’s mind do they fathom the possibility that human life has no importance? They so strongly hold to their beliefs and commit life-ending acts on their own to gain the publicity and attention surely something of this magnitude and significance would attract. The lives lost, the lives now altered by this act of cowardness, the children so innocently caught up in their game, whether by death or the abandonment of the loss of parents, the spouses who must now try to pick up somehow and live life further, this affects as all as a whole, not only here in the U.S, but as a world. In my mind, I am at this time unable to comprehend this, just the sheer premeditated act that has captured all who view these acts that come across the screen in real time. All these unbelievable events unfolding before us, people jumping to their deaths from stories above the ground, they understand they are trapped and would rather end the pain quickly rather than being consumed by the flames that await them at every exit. The parents who will begin the grieving process this evening over the loss of loved ones, and then there are those that will receive no word on the fate of their family, friends or acquaintances. We listen to the broadcast of death and destruction, and with each new update we still find it tough to process this type of information happening, for this has directly involved our people here on our homeland. What feeling must have overcome the passengers on these air transports as they became faced with the knowledge that their lives ending also meant that other lives also would come to an end and destruction would be imminent? Our president, the speaker of the free world, now assures me that our attackers shall be sought out for judgment and retribution and that America will not lie down and be silent in this time of global war. I am not sure that this is the way that God might handle or advise our reaction and retaliation, but this is the way we shall respond to try and assure that future generations will live in peace and will not fight this battle again at a later time. We must protect our immediate future as well as think long term when it comes to those that wish to control the free worlds. Let us all direct our attention towards those that so desperately need it and join in, sending millions of prayers upwards in their behalves. We must come together now as a country, a world, to achieve peace and understanding of all that inhabit our lands and reach our hands outwards in love to grasp that of all fellow man or together as a nation, as a world, we will fall!

                                   Mark Hall 

And If I Don't Make It

(Testament of a Hero) September 11, 2001 @ 7:30 pm

        How was I supposed to get out of this one? Have they not yet realized I am here, I am alive? I lie here awaiting a rescue that might never reach me, some being to finish the job I started. I think of a home now I may never see and faces I love that are etched in my memory. I am not naive though, I understand that my deliverer may not pull me from my entombment in time. Something inside forces me to bare the circumstances and face the minutes that pass ever so slow in hopes of a hero’s hand soon grasping mine, a miracle smile shared between fallen victims. The feeling that all is left behind me now, that I will, against most odds, not make it out of this one, forces me to calm myself with thoughts of history past. I believe mom and dad will truly know that what I was doing made me happy and fulfilled my life. Surely my brother and sister too will know that I gave up mine so another could continue. The light is obscured and limited but even still I can see the visual aids of life past and those that struggle on to continue the vigil of their release. A finger touches my arm in the depths of darkness and remains there. I am sure it is a feeling that if she is alive and I am also then there is hope. I take her hand in mine and hold on tight and try to mumble words of encouragement, but sounds are not forthcoming. My lungs and mouth have filled with the particles ash and the remains of what once stood and my body, also denied the water needed for adequate hydration, will not expend any extra moisture for words not needed. I had heard the call go out and never gave it a second thought as I rushed to a scene I was unprepared for. Inside I did go, to help those that surely would not be in their right faculties to handle that which had just been displayed before them. I think back to the lady’s I found huddled on the fifth flight of stairs, paralyzed with fear, would they have perished if I had not gotten to them? Will they now lead a more worthy life given that opportunity? The older gentlemen that had his leg broken in the stampede but still made it to the third floor before collapsing, could he have gotten out without me? Many others that are not so vivid that I had somehow helped, I would not do it differently if time were replayed, only tried to do more before the fall of this once great super structure. Was it daylight out now, how many days had I been here? The sounds of others have seemed to grow less over the time sentenced here. I hope for their sake it is for the saving of much needed strength, but fearing otherwise, it slowly becomes a realization that we might not make it. I find reassurance in my brothers of life, knowing they, as well as all their tools were working diligently to get to us. I could hear the cause and purpose of their mission but knew the sounds of their machinery were far from reaching us today. Again I try to move and crawl but there is no response from my lower extremities. Had I sustained damage to both or was there a crushing weight preventing their departure? My thoughts turn to those that had been able to make better time than I had and had already expanded their search to the upper levels when the burning rubble broke free and descended and dived towards earth at record speeds. Were they here with me now? I am no hero! The heroes are those that are topside that search frantically to find life, the people that have given their life already to the mission. The heroes are those left behind that must now carry on without the completeness of themselves, those are the real heroes! My body and mind now grow even calmer with the passage of every minute, I am no longer afraid! Tell mom and dad that I faced this with no fear; that I shed not one tear for myself but for others. If I don’t make it, don’t worry, I will see you guys again. I am a son, a brother and a friend and these titles are doubled as my extended family of firefighters also honors me with these. I pick up my battered helmet and trace the numbers of my engine company with my finger and find the emblem clinging to the helmet as if saying hang in there, we will make it, just hang on. Tell them all that I made it even if you pull me from this no longer breathing, tell them I was full of life when you got to me, and never let them know of my demise. Do not let them win. I know not the fate of any others or of the twin of the fallen tower.  Had she also fallen? How many of my brothers and sisters lost, how many others paid the ultimate sacrifice? I am among the wounded, I am the wounded, lay me down and let me sleep but for a while now. I grow tired and weak with hunger, weak with thirst, but I am alive, I am here guys, I have not left your side! Don’t let them win. I am ready to go home!       

                                                                Mark Hall