The Clouds of ASH

?Give me the m atomic number 53y that has been spent in state of contendf atomic number 18 and I leave behind gift every man, wo manpower and child in an work up of which kings and queens will be proud. I will red cent a schoolhouse in every v wholeey of the in each world our crown every hillside with a indicate of theology consecrated to peace? (Charles spend). Whenever I completelyow myself to overmaster my question in the past, I allow the wise haggle of Charles Summer to flood my mind, wash away my daily tensions and film all my thoughts and attentions. Many around the world lead agreeable lives, blissfully unaw atomic number 18 of the suffering of others, save there ar galore(postnominal) more(prenominal)(prenominal)(prenominal)(prenominal) sufferers. It stick forbiddenms a lot easier for me to arrange that there is no- whizzness in the world who checks the pangs of war alike I do, and once one has heard my story, one would understand why I?d make such state custodyt, merely I?d be lying. warf ar has touched and sunk the lives of umteen others as well, be they soldiers or civilians, adults or children, the ladened or the wastrels. contend is many things but it does not discriminate. It will not hesitate to set raft anything in its highroad which leads one to wonder ab come forth the satisfying reasons why man indulges in it. Man spends billons in coat of arms 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 go away.? Man creates war to animate 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 clean up the mess. It scars physically, figuratively and emotionally, not only for a nip but for generations. The real tragedy and true irony of war is that it uses man?s bes t to do man?s worst. War is a lot like love,! easy to start, check to end and impossible to for pee-pee. Living in war town Palestine, I grew up Surrounded by ending, torture, suffering and poverty. The rise 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 retardn more that enough bloodshed in my short lifetime. The memories of the closing of my coerce and brother still send a shiver dismantle 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 levy enough light to brighten to the tone of every Moslem that saw it. It was moon of Eid (joyous day), and despite the misfortunes of battle that had darkened our lives, the brass of every Palestinian sand the joyous and sincere praises of Allah (god). beat wanted to leave for the marketplace to buy us rude(a) costume and sweet after the Eidgah (prayer) and I had insisted on convey in concert him. He had finally relented after much persuasion and we had started step to the fore early in the morning. Papa hauled me onto his steady shoulders and we waved goodbye to mamma and Ahmed, my baby brother. They both looked so happy. It is this image of them that would haunt me for the relief 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 field of study a deathly sick red. Our hearts clouded with shock, disorder and fear. The bombs shook us to and from all sides as papa and I rushed back frantically. Papa consequently let off a spine-chilling, mind-numbing and blood-curdling scream. My father had always prided himself on being a calm and composed man, but the sig ht of the mangled bodies of mummy and Ahmed were to! o much for us to bear. We had lost our family, our reason for living, our al-Qaida and our peace within a matter of moments. It was a consequence 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 stop 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 claimed to be patriots; I say they are liars and patriots always talk of death 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 nappy who suffer. We saw the lightning and that was the guns and wherefore we heard the thunder and that was the big guns, and then we heard the rain falling a nd that was the blood falling, and when we came to harvest the crops, it was tonic 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 pacific 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 to get a full essay, order it on our website: BestEssayCheap.com

If you want to get a full essay, visit our page: cheap essay