I know why the hound cautiously sniffs the carcass of the sparrow, scarcely grazing the bird’s lifeless, brown feathers inquisitively with the tip of his moist nose. He is careful to not damage the Departed. Some amount of sorrow can be seen in his dark eyes, innately present within him. Perhaps he moans, or grumbles, or even barks. He then ambles away, his tail swaying with every footstep.
I know why the toddle bawls at the funeral, her blue eyes damp with tears. Her screams fill the church, echoing against the raised ceilings. The stained glass image of Christ smiles down upon his child in attempt to alleviate her suffering, but to no avail. It is irrelevant as to whether or not she was acquainted with the Departed. The suffering of others coalesces into one, and becomes a part of her. She clutches her mothers hand ever so tightly, her knuckles blanched, as they leave the church together.
I know why the ewe refuses to eat, after five months of stomach pains and three hours of labor heed no result. Her offspring was never among the Living; she passes into the world of the Departed before her own breath entered her lips, before she savored the sweetness of the grass. The farmer strokes the side of the ewe’s face, and she responds with a simple melancholy sigh. He carries her over his shoulder, away from the barn, and all the while she stares back into the place where she nearly birthed her lamb.
I know why the man loosens his hold upon the bottle as he sits upon the stool in the saloon. He borrows the truck, driving thirty miles in the middle of the night, to the hospital. And as he holds his child, minutes after she entered the world of the Living, his heart stops. The child’s face is flawless: from the slightly pudgy pink cheeks, to the pouting lower lip, to the barely visible hairs at the end of her earlobe, she is beautiful. For once, the calloused, masculine, homophobe looks upon another with love. As he is gestured out of the room by the mother, he is not discouraged, and he leaves with a full heart.
I know why the goose flies amongst his brothers, migrating in familiar ‘v’ shape. The fall skies are most perilous. Each beat of his wings is an effort, and eventually the beats combine into an infinite movement, and he does not distinguish one from the other. To eat side of him the others fly, and he watches each one closely, to ensure that they do not fall behind. The others watch him as well, all to guarantee that their family remains among the Living. As they fly across the sky, the goose announces the morning reveille with joy.
There is a uniting feature in all of Earth’s creatures: a mutual respect for the energy that runs through the vein of every living thing, the energy that defines whether a creature is among the Living or among the Departed. And when every being is dissected, it is found that they are, innately, the same, with no distinguishing marks between them.
I know why the world is so beautiful: it is filled with the love shared between its entire family.
