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Shaded Thoughts The trees of the Midwest grow stronger each season, as my recollections of them wane and meld with past dreams. Their sap blood equally precious, as my own. I think of all trees and summer shades of columnar beauty. How many trees wasted on paper and housing? They were wasted on Rapa Nui as they were wasted in Rome. Thousands made into crosses; including one for Jesus, just for speaking his peaces. (the ultimate waste of wood) Preachers say he was a carpenter of missing years, historians say he was a mason. My grandfather was a Mason, of the thirty-second degree. I've heard the word racism mentioned with the Masons, but never with my grandad. He was a Hoosier from Muncie, Indiana. I saw an old photo once, of an Indiana lynching from ninety years past; a black man hung unjustly from what looked like a sweet gum tree. As I studied the white faces staring out of that photo, I could see them all warring. A battle of guilt and ignorance raging on each hateful face, plainly visible to those who look. For all people know; including the cowards, what is right and wrong. |
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