Thinking of Stew.

Thinking of Stew.

I saw the news headlines when they proclaimed in bold print that the United States Marshals Service and the Federal Bureau of Investigations were involved in a violent confrontation and siege in Northern Idaho in1992.



What the headlines had failed to mention was that this siege was against a single man named Randy Weaver.



His son Sammy, and his nursing wife Vicki were both murdered by those very individuals that were entrusted to protect them.



We sat, the three of us, less than a year later watching the news coverage of the Federal Bureau of Investigations and the United States Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives shoot and murder 76 more people outside of a little shit-hole down in Waco, Texas.



I had already been ensnared by her by this time, and we had already, the both of us, betrayed you most severely.



20 children, two pregnant women and their two unborn fetuses burned to death on national television.



Everything was broken, twisted, and wrong.

It was the peeling away of innocence, the dropping of the veil.



Yet there we sat in our little broken triangle of fools who were each blind in their own way.



Burnt, blackened and cracked flesh falling from the infants bones.

A mother's silent screams.



The blazing and blinding flames of truth burning away the eyelids of the uninitiated.



I looked at your scarred legs and wondered who's face was revealed in the flames that once ravaged your fragile flesh.

Did you see your fathers face for the first time as the fire bathed you in it's brutal embrace?