This past Memorial Day I took a moment to reflect, in solemn sorrow, on a lost loved one. I remember her well as an innocent child, taken from me by a gang of lowlife thieves that used her for their own purposes.

Their purposes were not honourable, but she did not resist, trusting that no one would intentionally harm her or destroy her way of life. She was the epitome of beauty innocence, and all the admirable qualities that others admire but few have the courage or resolve to gain.

It was not by force of arms that she fell, silent, mortally wounded. Rather it was by sleight of hand, trickery and deceit.

She wept but I did not hear her, and by the time I realized her peril, she was gone.

I blame myself as I saw her danger but did not raise my voice to warn her, nor my hand to defend her. I, too, was fooled by the cowardly bastards and trusted that she would always be protected and served.

But they served none save themselves, cutting her ever deeper until she bled freely. She did not die in a blaze of glory like the Valkyrie that she was but succumbed with little more than a whimper and a mournful cry of "Why?"

Her name was Liberty and we will forever pay the price of her passing.

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3.21 Copyright (C) 2007 Alain Georgette / Copyright (C) 2006 Frantisek Hliva. All rights reserved."