The Last Watch
unwitting weapons of war
The painting is headed to Denver. On the way out the door, it told me a story.
The wilder war happens between three and five, the last watch before dawn. He used to wake each morning 3:34 and fall back to sleep a moment later. Now, he remains awake.
He grabs his glasses and phone from the nightstand and dodges two cats and a dog down the staircase. 3:35. He makes the cats wait while he makes coffee. They know they have to wait, but they still velcro to his legs to make sure he knows their hunger.
a chair, a couple puffs, a cough, and a prayer. He seems to do regular people activities.
His jammies are a Carhart hoodie and puma sweats. Rubber slip on Hunter Boots for the winter. On a clear cold night it seems like he’s the first to see it: The war that makes no noise. The coffee is just about done and he goes back inside and pours a large cup. Slams a pint of water because someone told him that healthy people live like that.
He feeds the cats finally. He runs the show. Not them. 3:49
The war has no bodies to use right now. Only his body stirs. The war rages in silence, but he can almost hear it. It has no mechanical movement until the tanks and planes and battering rams awake to begin their day. The war exists on a spiritual level, the eternal battle of the unseen. He knows almost nothing of its details, yet he is aware of its existence.
Standing his post, this watcher, this seemingly motionless warrior, sets his armor. He protects himself with a clear, almost empty mind. Any fearful thought, he discards as distraction. Any loneliness, a nod to the Virgin. Any temptation observed is thwarted by simply refusing to be moved.
He has a companion that never sleeps and never gets tired. They pass the waiting together. He is his Guardian’s only vocation.
Work is accomplished during the last watch, good and evil, and it will manifest later, when the drones and the submarines and the fearful leave their lumpy pillows poisoned by hazed thoughts of half-remembered dreams. With these whispers barely recognized, they launch from their slumbers into a rat race ruled by man-made Gods disguised.
They know not of the Last Watch. They know not of the War, only day-to-day strife. They do the best they can do. Most lead with love and caring. Some have never known. Some allow themselves to forget. Some do not believe. And many, increasingly these days, knowingly align their souls with evil.
The Guardian and the Man, coffee and cigarettes and all, wake each morning for them. The unwitting weapons of the war. The men and women doing the best they can do. The house wives and the infantrymen. The submarines and the substitute teachers. The captains, the pilots- the Jimmies and Joes. The Girl Bosses and Man Buns.
It seems the man has been given the curse responsibility of awareness. 3:34, each day. He does not know why. He does fully understand his purpose and his Guardian doesn’t talk. He doesn’t ask why, anymore. He thinks that he may be waiting for the word, a call to spring into kinetic action. The code word is not yet come.
But, He is fully prepared for the dawn to come, each morning. The war rages about him. He is as bewildered as the armada of people on their way to work at 7 am. He throws into the day unwittingly too, but he knows he does not know.
I think he may be placed in his chair, simply to get in the way for God, to make a Holy mess of things…while not moving an inch.
Thanks a million for reading. This Christmas I am hoping you and all your loved ones find the truth for your celebrations. The Birth, our families and peace.
Jason
Many paintings are still available for $999.00. Big savings. If you find one you have to have…contact me directly…5178987776