Across generations, you will come to know me. I am your past, your present, your future. I belong to those who were left behind by the constructs of linear time, yet exist in parallel realities where I can touch upon you the imprint of my soul. You think you exist in your world without me. You think I can exist without you. You think we can exist without each other. You look in the mirror and define yourself by the present awareness of your human condition yet fail to realize you are merely a thread weaving through the conscience of immortality. Today you might experience yourself as man or woman. Yesterday you were in my womb, in utero, waiting to be born. Nourished by the same placenta that fed you for generations before. Who will you be in this lifetime? Do you remember who we were in other lifetimes?
Were you the slave, shackled and haunted by his owner, weary to the bone from working his plantations? Or were you the plantation owner, filled with the undeniable assurance that I was merely property for you to own? Were you among the Native American, leaving your lands, malnourished and broken from walking the Trail of Tears? Or were you the militia pointing the gun in my back as I took my last steps, not able to feel the ground underneath my feet anymore. I watched painfully as you took away lands that you claimed were your own and the many lives with it. Were you a woman desperate to end an unwanted pregnancy with a back alley abortion? Or were you perhaps the child that never came to term? And what about the child working twelve hour shifts in a city factory before child labor laws were enacted to protect you? Or maybe you were that factory boss, walking around intimidating me, knowing what little monies I received for my intense labor would not be sufficient to help my family feed themselves. Maybe you were a physician in the early part of the century. Or perhaps you were one of the patients turned away because of the color of your skin when hospitals were segregated. Perhaps you were one of the many African Americans medically experimented upon until the 1990’s, or part of various impoverished societies whose bodies were also experimented upon for research. Perhaps you are part of Mother Earth whose soul weeps with grief at the destruction of humanity and of the environment which nourishes you. The pesticides, the GMO’s, the technological advances that make your life easier which in the end will only come back to haunt us.
Perhaps across generations you will come to understand that my wound is your wound, and your wound is mine. Perhaps you will come to understand that how you live your life will impact mine, and all of us you are connected with beyond the veil. Perhaps you will come to understand that it is not the weapon killing us all, but the thoughts and emotions fueling that weapon. The collective culture of hatred, greed, manipulation. Perhaps you will come to understand that the choices you make will impact generations to come and you, like me, will be watching from a distance. Perhaps.