22 October 2023
The road to Bucharest was slow, long and difficult, just as any road of hope stretches out far beyond our ordinary reach and will. They test us. These roads of hope test us.
They ask us to make the kind of sacrifices that break us and take away all pride and folly. Until we are broken and ready to be worked into a new form like a ball of potter’s clay.
Until there is no bravado left to sustain us, these roads of hope are towering trees. They hold the prize out of reach like an ancient tree that holds her forbidden fruit on a high and so distant branch.
A Mercedes city bus, a Ford F350, three Dacia pick ups, and two freight trucks. This was our caravan. What was left of it. We lost five cars along the way. And 20 good men and women.
The villages, towns, and cities along the way were dead, burned down or both. The remains of the dead lay exposed to weather, animals and worms. Cats fed upon their worm-ridden, dead former owners. And dogs fed upon fatted cats. Read the rest of this entry »