Inherit The Earth

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: August 24, 2016

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Submitted: August 24, 2016

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Inherit the Earth

There were three, then there were two, then one was taken.  That naturally left three - One plus the two living in my heart - three, permanently.

I long ago made nature my comfort home.  When traveling across, and through the landscape, I am at home.  I am moving across my home.  Landscape nurtures me with the beauty of itself; it has given me some of the best of my maturity.

Verdant landscape is my cousin.  Trees are my brothers.  We are descended from common ancestors.  I travel and explore with my family of landscape, away from people.

One suspects the farmer is people; the farmer who sowed seeds to feed people and humanize parts of the land.  I observe through windows.  The farmer’s field is really not my cousin; it is more like a visitor whom I notice, the attributes of which I see, but do not share.

I possess beauty in my small pantry ­ harboring necessities of food, perhaps a nephew might be curious about it, but I have no nephew.

I felt that if my last parent passed before me, I would become her, as we had grown together, sharing and respecting the dignity of unique selves.  I thought I would do as she did; live with her things that she had given me, and remember her, all this turning into an absorbed memory.

When a person loses their last family member due to something so harsh and sudden as a murder, it is feeling shoved off a cliff onto jagged edged boulders, and continuing to fall, the feeling that remains.

When people say of loved ones passed that they think about them, that does not really explain the deeply affected missing of them.  It is that one thinks as the missing loved one.  So one becomes that loved one, that parent or whomever they may be.  After a time, it is too constraining to speak directly to them with inner dialogue.  The nature of the separation painfully expands, it is a sensation severely traumatizing.  Then one transmorphs into the missing person, bringing in one’s own physical body.  That is how you become the other.  Pain from a murder finds one decreasing the murmuring internal dialogue with the missing one with whom you feel unendingly close.  You feel the separation is just momentary loss of touch, but they are still there, somewhere; as being separated in a train station, but, in grace, their spirit has already accepted the absorption of- you, even as you search.  You walk into their being.  You talk and think as did the loved one, you move and consider as did they, and in silence, you become the other.

That is one of the ways one experiences separation from a parent or another loved one, but it is not actual separation, and that is how you feel.

And by then, you have heired the earth.

By Sharon Pearce, © 032914

 


© Copyright 2017 S. Pearce. All rights reserved.

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