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 Israel's Burning Cross Israel's Burning Cross
by Leah Sellers
2019-08-10 09:50:17
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Well, Truth will out ! Mr. Trump continues to turn his Hate and Fear inciting Dog Whistle into a Fascist Fog Horn-Bull Horn ! Since Charlottesville he has publicly and privately wink-wink, nod-nodded his tacit support and defense of the KKK, Neo-Nazi and White Supremacist Movements, and given them the Political and Violently Energetic Validation and Go Ahead at America’s and the World’s expense !
Be Still My Heart (and Soul) !

“Burn that Cross, Boys ! Burn it ! Douse that can of gas-o-line all over it ! And light ‘er up !”

“Can you Feel the Glory of God pulsing’ through your veins, Boys ?! Can ya’ ?!”

“Can’t say as I can Jedediah. But my adrenaline is pumpin’ through me like a Runaway Jackhammer !” Dumas panted as he threw and sloshed gasoline all over the large, wooden, makeshift Cross he and the other KKK Boys had staked into the ground outside of a small ranch house. “Are you Boys gonna make me do all of the work ?”

“Nope, I’m gonna light the match,” Sam answered matter-of-factly. “Git out of the way, Dumas. Those Holy Sticks have got enough gas on ’em to burn into next week. I’m ready to set the blaze, and git this Show on the road.”

gun01_400_01“Ooo-Wee ! Sam, you’re always ready to blow things to smithereens,” Dumas jokingly retorted. “Go ahead, strike the match. I’m done. Let ’er rip !” Dumas tossed the empty gas can into the back of his Ford pick-up truck, and backed up a couple of feet away from the dangerously vaporous Cross.

“Alrighty, Boys. Here goes,” Sam lit the match and quickly flicked it up against the gas soaked Wooden Cross.
Instantly, the Cross exploded into bright, yellow-orange flames.

The thirteen white sheeted and hooded men hooped, hollered and jeered at the small wooden House the Burning Cross illuminated in the dark shadows of the starless night.

“Ooo-Wee ! Watch ’er burn, Boys ! Watch ’er burn ! That there is God’s Holy Fire ! His Burning Wrath ! God’s Hand has reached down from the Heavens, and is gettin’ ready to pluck the mote from the Eyes of the Ones offended !” Jedediah’s wide eyes were feverishly aglow with the reflected image of the Blazing Cross. “Israel ! Come on oughta’ that House, Boy ! Come on out, and meet your Makers !”

The screen door slowly creaked open revealing a tall, gangly, silver-haired Black Man. “What can I do for you Boys tonight ?” Israel asked quietly. Firmly.

“What can you do for us ? Ha ! More like what are we goin’ to be able to Do for you, Boy ! For you and To you ! Ha ! Ha !”

“I’m not sellin’ my Land to you, Jedediah. Is that what all of this is about ?” Israel asked calmly.

No one answered, The Hoods and Sheets gleamed deadly silent in the suffocating heat and harsh brilliance of the Fiery Cross.

“Is that why all of you Boys are here ? Dumas, I recognize your pointy-toed boots. Sam, you can’t disguise that slouch of yours. Al, is that you ? How’s your Wife ? How’s Mrs. Peggy and the kids ?”

“Don’t you mention my Wife and kids, you no good….” Al stopped mid-sentence, and instead lifted the bottom of his Hood, and spit ferociously at one of Dumas’s trucks’ back tires.

“Hey, Al ! You stop that. I don’t want your slimy spit slidin’ down my chrome wheel covers. Show ’Ole Betsy some respect. She gotcha’ here,”Dumas warned.

Israel walked toward the Burning Cross. He stopped a few feet away from the orange glowing, ash covered, blackened planks, and stared into the Cross’s remaining flickering flames.

“Jedediah, this Land has been in my Family for three generations. I’m not sellin’ it to anyone. I’m passin’ it on to my Children, and that’s all there is to it. Burn as many Crosses as you want to in my front yard. It won’t Change a thing.”

Jedediah grunted and moved a couple of steps toward Israel with a large plank of wood in his hand. “We’ll see about that.”

“What are you gonna Do, Jedediah ? Boys ? You gonna beat me senseless ? You gonna beat me dead ?” Israel paused. “It won’t Change a thing. This is my Land. This is my Children’s Land. It is not for sale at any price. Not even my Death.”

“Why are you burnin’ a Cross on my Land anyway ? Christ was Crucified on a Cross. Not burned. He was Crucified ’cause the Rulin’ Romans and Jewish Leaders Feared his Personal Power and Divinity. The Power of his Words. The Power of His Miracles of Healing and His OutReach to One and All. They Feared the claim He had on the World. They Feared His Followers, His Disciples, His Words of Truth, of Justice, and Equality for EveryOne in the Eyes of God.”

“The Ones in Charge were Afraid of Change. Afraid of what they didn’t Understand. Afraid of Somethin’ and SomeOne they couldn’t control. And so they cruelly murdered His Body. But He lives on in the Hearts, Minds and Souls of People around the World.”

‘Witches, Hags were Burned at the Stake, by fine Church-Goin’ folks like yourselves, because the ignorant, the petty, the jealous and the Leaders of the Church and the Community Feared their Personal Power and Knowledge of the Healing Arts.”

“They Feared what they could not Understand. They Feared somethin’ and SomeOne they couldn’t control. They were Afraid of Change and Science they wanted to call Evil Magic. And so they cruelly murdered their Bodies upon Burning Stakes or at the end of Drowning Poles.”

“But their Healing Arts and Sciences, and their Personal Lives and Deeds Live on in Stories and Oral and Written Histories around the World.”

“You can beat me to Death before your Burnin’Cross tonight, Boys. But the Love I have for my Family. For my Children, and their Children’s Children, and this Land will Live on for years to come.”

“Fear those Sentiments and Facts as you may, but that is the Truth of it. The Real Truth within this Moment in Time.”

“Sure, you’ll get your momentary sweet taste of Revenge for not gettin’ what you from this ‘ole Black Carcass. But when the beatin’ is done, and this ‘ole Burnin’ Cross is nothin’ but a pile of smolderin’ ashes. What will you have ? Really have ? Nothin’. Nothin’ at all, but Blood on your Hands. Blood on your Hearts. Blood on your Souls.”

Israel drew a deep breath and stared resolutely into the dying flames of the dwindling Cross. “But the Land will still be here. My Children’s Land will still be here. And where will you Boys Be ? Where will you Be ?”
Everyone stood still in Time. No one moved.

A Changing Wind whipped through the air lifting and beating White Sheets and Hoods against immobile Bodies.

Sparks popped and flared, as the Cross crumbled into a smoking ruin.

Dumas cleared his smoke-filled, and sore throat, “I’m goin’ on Home. Who’s comin’ with me ?” Dumas threw his Hood into the back of his pick-up truck, and proceeded to remove his white body sheet up and over his tawny head. “What’s wrong with my pointy-toed boots ?”

The rest of the twelve men began to drift toward Dumas’ truck, and the other vehicles (primarily trucks) parked further away from the small ranch House. Their white sheets dissolving slowly and hauntingly into the thick, smoke-filled dark void of the night.

Sam, stopped and barked, “Jedediah, you comin’ ? There’s nothin’ to Be Done here, Jed. Nothin’ worthwhile that is. Come on. I’ll give you a lift Home. You don’t wanna have Letty and the Kids or none of the rest of us worryin’ after ya’, now do ya’ ?”

The thirteenth man, Jedediah, didn’t answer.

“Come on, Jedediah. There’s nothing’ here for you. Let’s go on Home to our Wives and our Families.”

Jedediah dropped his plank of wood, and stepping over it, walked wordlessly past Israel to join Sam.
Blinding headlights popped on all around the Lone Standing figure of Israel. One by one, they twisted and glared in the evening air, until, at last, Israel stood truly Alone. Alone and unmoving. Staring at the sputtering Fire. The last vestiges of the Burning Cross in the middle of his front yard.

The screen door creaked open. “Israel ?”

Israel turned purposefully toward his Home. He was aware of the Energy of the Land beneath his feet with every step he took toward his Wife. His Children. His Chosen Life.


Check Leah Seller's EBOOK
A Young Boy/Man's Rage, and A Knife He Wanted to Be a Gun
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