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The Sleeping Rose (Expat Week #043)

Adventures of an American Traveler

For some moments in life there are no words.  ~David Seltzer

I saw a tiny rose carried by her father and I wept.
I saw a rose without thorns placed in a dirt hole and I wept.
I saw the face of a rose yet to bloom sleeping in an earthen grave and I wept. 
I saw the rose covered with mother earth never again to see the light of day and I wept.
I saw bouquets of incense burned and broken hearted men lay yellow and orange flowers on a rocky grave for a rose pruned prematurely and we wept.
I saw the father standing alone over the grave of his daughter weeping salty tears onto the parched earth and I found myself praying that moisture deposited in heartfelt love would breathe life back into the sleeping rose.
We all wept for the passing of this tiny rose.

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