When I lived here before, I had many names because the pretense of sticking to one had yet to be invented. I can bet you did, too. But of course, that was another here, and we never thought to set it all down for the record or posterity because those habits didn’t come until the static names, weighted to set into stones and books and badges. At first, we were excited to carry these like weights in our pockets. They kept us, as the saying went, grounded.
Before, I had names for the birds and the ones they called me, the grasses and what they whispered back; the suggestions of skies–––and not one of these was ever wrong.
Perhaps wrongness came later, too, or at least the modern form of it––the looming concrete tower with eyes on every side, ready to fire, that leaden shadow draping its weight over all the places where our names used to breathe.
This one touched me deeply. Thank you for the gift.
Love to you, sister.
Lovely verse and perspective Stacey.
Brad, thank you for this kind note. Wishing you a great weekend : )
Great piece – makes you wonder how Humanity has perverted Nature.
Thank you, Chris.
My pleasure.