THE STRANGER’S TOUCH

Juan began to read the words scratched on the concrete wall of a prison cell by a man who was condemned to die when the sun brought forth a new day. ‘One day, as a boy, I saw a desert; there was nothing but a bit of brush, an odd cactus standing here and there, and some small, wind beaten trees. Sand and rocks as far as the eye could see and that was all. And then it happened, a storm descended on the desert and rain fell for the first time in ten years. It was a miracle; the next few days the desert was covered with flowers of every imaginable color. It was a carpet of color. The ugliness had been transformed. Even in a desolate land like a desert, flowers could bloom. They had waited for the right time. ‘It was exactly the same for us, me and my Maria. We had been fighting and killing and bleeding, then one day, I actually saw her for the first time; I mean to say, I really saw her. Oh, Father of all, she was magnificent. Brave beyond courageous, smart, and a total soldier. When it came time to charge, she was always out front urging us on to a better glory. Our eyes met and in the midst of destruction and death, and just like it was so for the desert, flowers bloomed in my heart. That's how it was for me. ‘We had been together, fighting for what we believed was right. We were setting a charge under the rail on a railroad trestle, and I accidently touched her hand and she smiled at me. A smile, it was so shy and gentle, but she killed with cool precision and never gave a hint of sorrow. Here she was smiling, in the middle of a bloody, vicious war; gentle she was and filled with warm goodness. She took my hand and brushed it against her cheek for a moment, and then, she called for the men to gather round; we would set up an ambush. We would wait for the train to sound its arrival before we blew up the rail, that way they could not stop in time. When the charge of explosives tore the rail from the trestle the train would hit the open rail of the trestle and crash into the river far below, we then would open fire on the troop cars. ‘We, my love and I, sat together in the shade of a tree waiting for the train. Two young people, who were old beyond their ages, felt something not related to war. I was twenty six and she was twenty four. I took her hands in mine; I gazed into her eyes. Her hair, black as the endless night sky, seemed to have stars sparkling among the strands of her tresses. A slight breeze touched her hair, and it fell forward, covering her expression as she bowed her head. I gently brushed it aside to see her face and to kiss the wetness that covered her cheeks. ‘I was afraid I would die without knowing about love,' she said. ‘We held one another. How foolish we were then. War had no time for love; we both knew that. If only we had ... We heard the train coming. She kissed me and said she wanted to tell me something. All I saw in her eyes were lovely flowers in bloom, but there was no time for words; no time for love. It was a time to set off the charge, a time to kill, and a time to die. ‘The blast took the rail from the trestle and the engine and several cars fell into the river below. They had machine guns mounted on the flat cars and the troops engaged us. We were outnumbered ten to one, but we fought on. It was fortunate most of the cars went over the edge with the engine. It was a bloody battle and many were killed on both sides. Maria and I managed to gather the survivors and made a retreat down a trail leading to the river below. We ran into a large force, and we were surrounded and captured. They tortured us all, but they took delight in torturing Maria. Rape and beatings were daily things until the day of her execution. ‘They were taking her down the passage in front of my cell on her way to the stone wall, and I reached out my hand and touched her as she walked by. She looked back at me and smiled. She called to me: 'I wanted to tell you something.' A rifle butt stopped her voice. I closed my eyes and the flowers bloomed once again for me, and the colors were so mixed it was difficult to select one that was the more lovely than another. I heard the shot. It was some time before I was able to see. Tomorrow, with the sun, I too will feel the cold, stone wall on my back and feel the chains that will tie me to the wall. We'll be together; my love and I.’ I was listening to Juan so intently, it was a few moments before I realized it wasn't possible, and then I became confused. If all the words he was offering were actually engraved on that wall, it would have had to have been a lot bigger wall. Too many words; there were too many of them. I looked at Juan his eyes were still closed, tears trickled down his weather beaten face; he never tried to stop them or wipe them away. He turned away from the wall, and said; maybe we should go to lunch. I looked at the words on the wall as we left the cell. I took a picture of the wall covered with its poetic words of love. I could hardly breathe the emotion nearly choked me. It hit me like a hurled stone.