This is the farmhouse of Dwight D. Eisenhower in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. While he was in the White House, this was his personal retreat. With Camp David nearby, he came here to get away from it all.
In this hot and humid night I doubt that I am coherent. Alone in bed at two in the morning has teeth. When you leave I feel a visceral loneliness that I am certain is internal. It always feels like April here. I ramble on about sunny meadows and how the wheat smells of lavender, tell you again about the painting that I am working on and how it takes so long to dry. I am acutely aware of the momentum of words and how I miss the tender touch of your hand on my thigh. My hands are worn raw in search of common ground but I haven’t the words to not betray myself after you have gifted me your history. Implicit trust frightens me. I wonder how you have such faith. I consume all that you give me as though each secret could never be an infringement…
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A train station that houses a museum.
Living in the past,
is so easy to do . . .
it’s not hard to recall
the bad things done to you.
Letting go is not so simple,
there’s no effort in hanging on
and to forget the past images
takes an awful lot of brawn.
So, we live with the despair,
the heartaches and the pain
and the peace God promised
our misery will only drain.
It’s not until we come,
to a place where we forgive
that we find the tranquility
in which God wants us to live.
So, if you are in the shackles,
which bind you to the past
let Jesus release your burden
and you’ll be free at last!
“Cast thy burden upon the Lord,
and he shall sustain thee:
he shall never suffer the
righteous to be moved.”
Copyright 2013 Revised 2019
Deborah Ann Belka
I saw this beauteous hour
when the sun burst through with wild abandon
merciful and golden
on a day when anything seemed possible
after the tortuous night
belching wind gales,
a night so dark, even the swallows refused to fly
we came hither from the madness
after night took a scalpel to the sky
and the fear that shattered us drove us
halfway between a plea and a prayer
the history of it all
traced in words of indigo and sorrow
the sun at last
great, glimmering star
glowing through the first buds
of an old, hickory tree
who had long thought
its best days were behind
as it is now
the wind-moaned sadness of it all
a promise unfurled in green leaves and twigs
in the shallow beating rhythm of dove wings
spring comes again
even with its beauty
even with its pain
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Grenades have long been used in warfare across the world. However, their manufacture requires certain industrial materials and production lines.
In the closing stages of WWII, strategic bombing had decimated Japanese industrial infrastructure, leading to the development of a last-ditch weapon: the Type 4 grenade.
The Type 4 is also known as the “ceramic grenade” because it was made of porcelain or terracotta. These were materials which could be found at the end of the war when more traditional grenade materials were in short supply.
The Imperial Japanese Navy Technical Bureau came up with the idea for this new weapon. It was easy to make and cheaper to produce than traditional grenades at the time. This new weapon was to be used by the general populace of the country in the event of an Allied invasion.
To mass produce these grenades, kilns which were normally used…
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