Page 119 - Dark Matter:Women Witnessing Issue2

The body of the baby squirrel was tiny and lovely—still warm. I had pulled over, and realized that a car

just before me must have hit her. Here in a primordial forest, I was able to do more than move the

brutalized animal into the grasses out of the road. I found leaves, pine needles, sticks and forest duff to

cover her.

My heart broke at the sight of her–beautiful, innocent and soft. I am so sorry, I said, brimming with

unexpected emotion. The girl in me remembered what it was to be wounded by an overwhelming

force—the invading hands of adults upon whom I depended. Oh wee one, my heart said to the little

squirrel, I am so sorry. I know what it is to suffer, to have others avert their eyes from the mess of

(looking at)? you.

I sat on a rock, the baby squirrel covered now—and put my hand above the little mound. A soft song

rose in me, and I hummed a melody over her body. I wished the spirit of the little squirrel ease. To the

extent I knew how, I offered my heart to her soul. I prayed that she relinquish her life in peace. I

apologized for the excesses of my kind, and the brutal manner of her death. I prayed that the fabric of

love around her be mended.

As I prepared to leave, I notice two large, beautiful pinecones sitting by the grave. I positioned them

atop the little mound to form a great V, pointing upwards, open to the sky. The open chalice, the pubic

triangle. A decorated grave. Now one last small bow. And the act was done.

Rising sunlight streamed through the trees thirty minutes later as I walked through a majestic grove of

giant sequoias, many over a thousand years old. The trees were massive–200 feet tall and thirty feet in

diameter. I was within the hallowed quiet of a cathedral. I nestled myself within two giant sequoias

coupled together. I wanted to look, just look. Above me, ravens and a circling hawk. A tiny spider

crawled on my sleeve. Touching the bark of an ancient living being, I offered my heart. I entered the

web.

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