And now I will paint you a picture, not with spatula and brush but with words which will allow you to visualize the scene.
A weeping mother is crouched beneath the shell-torn canopy which once adorned the entrance to her small but neat (now shattered) home.
In her hands she clutches the arm of her young daughter, she recognizes the fact that it is her daughter's arm by the little beaded woven leather bracelet which girdles the wrist, a simple trinket which she had made for herself.
Behind her, buried in the smoking debris you will probably find the husband, the son and the remainder of the little girl, who knows in what condition their remains may be.
And now, the picture moves as a young American soldier approaches the woman and, noting the distress she is in, cannot contain his own emotions and sheds tears of sorrow for her obvious plight.
He stoops and gently places his hand under the Mother's arm and raises her to her feet.
She looks into his face and, recognizing the fact that the young man also weeps, buries her head in his chest and utters words of comfort to HIM, fully aware that this evil was not of his doing, but of those under whose control he IS.
My picture tells me of the horrors inflicted upon the innocents of the world, of the futility of impressing hatred upon one being for another in the pursuit of power.
It also reveals a fatal flaw in such pursuits, since among it all, the basic human decency which is inbred in most of humanity, will ultimately rise above the need to destroy life.
If as much energy was expended on uniting people as dividing them, then peace would be the norm among us all.
As to the picture, I think it displays courage, humility and forgiveness beyond the realms of our comprehension.
These things have I seen, I will see them again and again, I hope YOUR memories and the pictures of them, carry the same message as my own.
