Mid-January and already my New Year’s Resolution is being tested. I resolved to worry less. Worry – disquiet, unease, anxiety. In the first six days of the year I celebrated my birthday and was involved in a minor car accident. Then, on the 7th of January, gunmen attacked Charlie Hebdo in Paris.
Today, I read a poem about an injured deer that finds shelter in a shed and is found in the spring. It ends like this: All deer die. / This one is a testament.
Does the poet mean that deer is a metaphor for testament, which is a covenant between god and humans? Or is the deer a metaphor for god? As though the human-made shed was not for wood or tools, but for a god, a creator or a spirit. I will shelter you.
Yesterday, trying to identify a building in one of my photos from our trip to Boston in September, I found the image: Site of the Boston Massacre. Five colonists were killed by British soldiers on March 5, 1770. The Brits were occupiers and the locals didn’t like it. The colonists provoked the soldiers, then attacked them. The soldiers fired. Later, most of the soldiers were acquitted because they did not fire until attacked.
Today, a Saudi Imam banned the building of snowmen because nothing can be built or drawn by man that has a soul; only god can do that.
Massacre – an indiscriminant and brutal slaughter of people. How many deaths equal a massacre? One black man? Five colonists? Twelve cartoonists and staff? The 66 journalists killed in 2014? The list is long and historic.
If the image of man cannot be made by man, how then is it souls are so easily destroyed? How do we remember the dead without names and faces, without knowing their histories? If a deer is a testament, what are people killed by man? Testaments to their beliefs?