To a Fallen Hero

This is a repost of a previous blog in Memoriam.

Rest, little brother…

Looking over the harbor, staring in disbelief at the cloud of dust and smoke rising over Lower Manhattan, the Spirit of Liberty, very sadly, hunched a little bit, slumping her great shoulders.
Slowly the Spirit freed herself from the bonds of her glorious statue. As if coming out of a giant cocoon, deliberately, she left behind the wonderful sculpture forged of copper, steel and tears. As beloved as her statue was, she knew that earthly symbols rise and topple, but she would always be. Eschewing the weight of a monument, she deployed her wings. Those are the great wings that Freedom granted her, when the best of men decided to give hope a chance and bring Liberty to another corner of this little green planet of ours, those are the wings that allow her to soar
However, on this day, this flight was to be a solemn one. Another Child of Man had paid the Price of Freedom. Liberty has to repay the debt. She started flying in direction of what had been the pride of New York. Her torch was dimming a little, her arm was not held so high but her flight of slow, long and deep strokes had the grace of an archangel
She reached the wreckage, shook her head and a tear rolled down her verdigrises cheeks. A sigh shook her chest. She gently parted some giant pieces of rubble, shifted a bit and gently, oh! so gently lifted the lifeless body of a young firefighter from within the chaos.
The brave was covered with dust, soot, and blood; the uniform in tatters but one could see the handsome face, peaceful as if only sleeping. Gently, without dropping her torch the spirit swept some of the debris off the face and body. Like a rag doll, in the full abandon of death.
The Ghost of Liberty stepped out, holding him carefully, with reverence. With majesty, she straightened up, squared her shoulders, and her torch, brighter all of a sudden, was raised up high. Then she started moving, slowly, ceremoniously but in a determined way. Deploying her great wings, she flew, rising toward the heavens. The sky parted as she made her way in what was obviously a holy mission. Giant eagles flew by and dipped their wings in sign of respect, blaring their great cry as if to warn ahead that a sacred flight was on its way
When she reached the Great Gates, there was a double line of the fallen firefighters of yesteryears. The Old Ones, from the Chicago fire, from the San Francisco Earthquake, blackened wet and sooty heroes of Pearl Harbor, sailors and marines killed fighting the fires caused by the Kamikazes aboard the Warships of the Freedom Armada, the brave, beautiful, heroic Fire Jumpers killed defending the Great Forest they loved so much, were there. They were all quiet and solemn: One of their own was coming home.
The Spirit of Liberty whispered “ He gave his life for me” then walked between the two lines of proud men and women fallen to the fires. They presented their hooks, axes and Pulaski in a silent salute as the ghostly figure passed and finally came to a stop. They all formed a large circle around a stall of the purest marble where the Ghost of Liberty gently deposited her charge.
He lay there, lifeless, covered of soot, blood and dirt that somehow looked like a badge of courage and spirit.
They were all silent. Slowly an old Fire Chief, himself covered with the burned badges of his own courage, approached the body of He who had been one of New York’s bravest. He dropped down on one knee, slowly reached out, and rearranged the position of the young hero as if trying to make him more comfortable. He took off his helmet and bowed his head for a moment. He reached out with a callous and blackened hand, moved away a lock of sweaty hair, bend down even more to deposit a gentle kiss on the forehead of the young men. As the young hero slowly opened his eyes and tried to rise, the old Chief gently restrained him and said with a chocked and gravely voice, “ You can rest now, little brother, we’ll guard you. When others cowered and feared, you gave it all and made a nation proud”
September 13, 2001