Beneath the Burning Sun

Reads: 12  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic

We struggle and we thrive beneath the burning sun. We see the golden rays that scorch and burn the budding life that withers and then dies beneath the burning sun. It is the brilliance of the light that ignites the life within, and it is the radiance of the glowing flames of light that incites the unquenchable thirst of man, and of all creatures great and small.

BENEATH THE BURNING SUN

By Al Garcia

We struggle and we thrive beneath the burning sun.  We see the golden rays that scorch and burn the budding life that withers and then dies beneath the burning sun.  It is the brilliance of the light that ignites the life within, and it is the radiance of the glowing flames of light that incites the unquenchable thirst of man, and of all creatures great and small.

As we toil beneath the burning sun, it is when our thirsty minds begin to conjure glimpses of the insignificance of the consequence of being.  In seared fields of summer crops or the parched valleys and arroyos that abound, young boys and men, women and children cower and huddle beneath the burning sun, forever scarred and wounded by the piercing arrows of their poverty and their providence.

How strange to recall the long hot summers of my youth and to still feel the burning sun above me, and the waves of heat surrounding me, and still sense the utter helplessness that once burned inside of me.  Those were the days without dreams and without hope.  Those were the endless days of summer along the Rio Grande.  Those were the days beneath the burning sun.

I remember so well the sweat flowing from my brow and the dryness and the craving that my body and my mind seemed only to amplify and aggravate with each step I took and with each thought that crossed my wondering mind, as I crouched with the weight of prejudice and bias on my back, along with the long canvas bag that I dragged behind, as I picked cotton beneath the burning sun.  Memories of a lifetime ago, when I was young and just learning the lessons of life and of living among the tattered and trampled memories of once proud and noble romantics and dreamers, whose blood, tears and dreams now dwell inside of me.

How hot was the sun as it burned into me the lessons only time, sweat and exhaustion could teach?  I learned beneath the burning sun that it is the effort, the struggle and the drudgery of feeling the pain, the ache, and finally the contentment of completion, that makes life worth living, and living worth fighting for.  And I, like so many of my kind and of my time, learned well.  We persevered and left the fields, the valleys and the arroyos behind and ventured out and found that hard work and dreams, and the tenacity of a remembered and respected culture could change the path of history and the world around us.

And now, how do we teach the ethics of living to a generation raised beneath the shade of the hardships and despair that we already suffered and endured?  How do we explain, to a generation growing up beneath the fading shadows of their past, the nobility of their culture and the merit of their history?  They will never know life beneath the burning sun, nor experience the exhaustion of the effort, the struggle or drudgery that life can be, nor feel the exhilaration of pure contentment and fulfillment that makes life worth living, and living worth fighting for.

Have we unwittingly diminished and inhibited the spirit of the proud and noble romantics and dreamers of our past by shading and protecting our children from the reality of how life once was beneath the burning sun.


Submitted: May 31, 2021

© Copyright 2021 A.Garcia. All rights reserved.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Add Your Comments:


Facebook Comments

More Memoir Essays

Other Content by A.Garcia

Essay / Editorial and Opinion