In Honor Of

Rainbow's Gold

He paused and thought about the idea for a long, long time.

The sounds from the freight train sped past throwing his charcoaled gray hair into a twirl, but he bare noticed. A group of boisterous teenagers dressed in various states of disarray passed by him on the old wooden depot platform, they registered only a slight annoyance as he was lost in thought.

He continue to ponder. There was no hurry. This was important.

     "It is a known fact that ye not speak the name of them that cared for the dead when they do die," reverently whispered Jarrah as they peered through the thorny Australian wattle bushed at the well-dressed group of mourners.  "They need respect.  That is the peace they seek, so the Father has told me."

     Geoffrey only nodded.  His throat parched with fear, while his sandy hair prickled with the unspoken thoughts of someone who knew that what they were doing was--unjust.

     "Ship astern, aft starboard," a voice echoed from aloft.  "Three masts and runnin' full!"

     Captain Morton grabbed his spyglass and moved to the rail.  Steadying himself against the firm railing he peered toward the horizon and searched for the approaching vessel, hiping his eyes would quickly adjust to the morning glare that was just making it's presence known.  He frowned when he finally saw what he was looking for.

     "What is it, Captain?"  Mr. Deprior softly spoke by his side.

     "It's her," he replied, lowering his glass and pondering.  "It's the Merriam!"

I was born in the year of 1282, in the very early spring, just outside the Sicilian city of Palermo, but had no recollection of it since my father had fled with his small family soon after my birth.  Though the province at the time was mainly Sicilian in race and culture, it was then ruled by French monarchs, whose presence often caused an air of resentment amongst those whom they ruled...

"Listen my infant ones," father would dramatize, waving his arms frantically while in the telling.  "We fled out of fear for all that was ours, for our very lived we would forfeit if it were not so.  Oh, the death that rained about our very feet that day!"

I stood, not moving, for in my mind I knew it was my fault that he was in this condition;  I blamed myself.  At the time I could have stopped him but I didn't.  I was too stubborn.