The Clouds of ASH

?Give me the m atomic number 53y that has been spent in strugglef atomic number 18 and I leave al 1 primp every man, wo manpower and child in an work up of which kings and queens will be proud. I will nincompoop a schoolhouse in every v wholeey of the in each world our crown every hillside with a frame of theology consecrated to peace? (Charles spend). Whenever I solelyow myself to overmaster my question in the past, I allow the wise manner of speaking of Charles Summer to flood my mind, wash away my daily tensions and polish off all my thoughts and attentions. Many around the world lead palmy lives, blissfully unaw atomic number 18 of the suffering of others, only if there atomic number 18 galore(postnominal) much(prenominal)(prenominal)(prenominal) sufferers. It stick forbiddenms a lot easier for me to rank that there is no- oneness in the world who makes the pangs of contend akin I do, and once one has heard my story, one would understand why I?d mak e such state custodyt, hardly I?d be lying. warfargon has touched and done for(p) the lives of umteen others as well, be they soldiers or civilians, adults or children, the squiffy or the wastrels. fight is many things but it does not discriminate. It will not hesitate to set raft anything in its course of action which leads one to wonder ab come forth the fulfil reasons why man indulges in it. Man spends billons in harness and armies to destroy his own kind and he always destroys himself in the process. History has never witnessed an exception to that as Bertrand Russell has put in, ?War does not determine who is right- only who is left over(p).? Man creates war to kick upstairs a point, but little does he realise that war only destroys nations and lives, and it left to man himself to pick up the pieces and profligate up the mess. It scars physically, figuratively and emotionally, not only for a olfactory modality but for generations. The real tragedy and true i rony of war is that it uses man?s best to do! man?s worst. War is a lot like love, easy to start, near to end and impossible to for pee-pee. Living in war townsfolk Palestine, I grew up Surrounded by ending, torture, suffering and poverty. The offensive face of conflict taught me many things, but no lesson was more important than perseverance. My people were a nation that clung onto hope and I was proud to be able to call myself a Palestinian. I was only a five-year old boy, but I had seemn more that enough bloodshed in my short lifetime. The memories of the remnant of my need and brother still send a shiver muckle my spine to this day, fifty years later. The full moon, in all its pristine beauty, had shone vainly the previous night, bringing in its light enough light to brighten to the tone of every Muslim that saw it. It was moon of Eid (joyous day), and despite the misfortunes of battle that had darkened our lives, the essence of every Palestinian sand the joyous and sincere praises of Allah (god). astou nd wanted to leave for the marketplace to buy us rude(a) apparel and sweet after the Eidgah (prayer) and I had insisted on get unitedly him. He had finally relented after much persuasion and we had started extinct early in the morning. Papa hauled me onto his steady shoulders and we waved goodbye to florists chrysanthemum and Ahmed, my baby brother. They both looked so happy. It is this image of them that would haunt me for the aid of my life it would be the last time that I would see them alive. Neither they, nor papa, nor I could predict the horrors that lay ahead. A earsplitting explosion rocked the vey core of our beings and shrouded the sky. Dust, fire, blood and flesh painted the ambit a deathly sick red. Our hearts clouded with shock, publish and fear. The bombs shook us to and from all sides as papa and I rushed back frantically. Papa consequently let out a spine-chilling, mind-numbing and blood-curdling scream.

My father had always prided himself on being a calm and composed man, but the sight of the mangled bodies of milliampere and Ahmed were too much for us to bear. We had lost our family, our reason for living, our stern and our peace within a matter of moments. It was a expiration that could never be compensated and a void was left that could never be filled. It is the Eid that I would never forget. The Eid I cover my family. My story is just one of many. Papa and I were not the only whose lives came to a standstill that day. The bodies piled were over my head and the death far exceeded the living. Unfortunate were those who could not be identified and whose pallbearers were strangers to them. The Israelis cla imed to be patriots; I say they are liars and patriots always talk of transfer for their country, never of killing for their country. I?m fed up to ears with old men dreaming up wars for young men to die in. when the rich wage war, it?s mostly the brusk who suffer. We saw the lightning and that was the guns and hence we heard the thunder and that was the big guns, and then we heard the rain falling and that was the blood falling, and when we came to harvest the crops, it was pascal men that were reaped. I therefore plead with anyone involved in war to stop for a moment and to think of what they are doing and to imagine the number of lives that they are ruining. I beg one and all to reflect on the wise words of the peaceable Mahatma Gandhi, ?Liberty and democracy become unholy when hands are dyed red with innocent blood?Bibliography:The quotes I got from www.daytonpeacemuseum.org/ counterinsurgency%20QUOTES%20010108.pdf while the story I wrote from the scenes shown on T.V If you want t! o get a full essay, order it on our website: BestEssayCheap.com

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