|Pocahontas Cemetery. |
Photo credit: www.thearmchairexplorer.com
Tonight, there is the spirit of another, however. It is not human: a child of Cernunnos ambles down from the mountain, his hooves barely audible on the brick street. His rack of antlers is small, but his long legs give him an air of elegance as he reaches up into the branches of the apple tree just beyond the parking lot of my new home. As he pulls a piece of fruit free, many more apples rain down on him. He continues to graze and consumes several of the small but succulent fruits. When he is satisfied, he disappears silently into the darkness, leaving me feeling that I have been extraordinarily blessed by Nature to have shared this moment.
As night grows longer, there is only the sound of locusts, but there is a vibration, a thrumming as the Veil thins around me in this place. I know those who have lost their lives or lived in this town will be returning as soon as that thinning is complete and they are able to cross to walk among the living for a short while. So much of the history of this place is connected to Death; yet I wonder if the appearance of the deer isn't a subtle sign that despite this, the annual cycle of Life is very much still continuing amid the decaying buildings.
It seems to me that we focus so much on the past that we forget that how we live here now will be the history of tomorrow. So many of us are waiting for this place to draw it's last breath that I wonder if they have forgotten that a sudden breath of air might be all it needs to live.