herbavore
Bluelight Crew
Last night something got killed in my yard right under my bedroom window. It involved probably five minutes of terror (running and shrieking) and then two horrifying screams of pain. The predators were probably coyotes and I am guessing the prey was a young raccoon. The snarling and growling was so loud that it woke us all up. My cats flew off the bed into hiding and I went flying outside and scared whatever it was off--no doubt carrying the now-dead prey off with it. This morning I went out and looked for remains and could only see things knocked around where the animal must have tried to find a hiding place or an escape. This morning the sound of the coyotes won't leave my head. When I was down in Ecuador walking I wrote a poem about every death now being (in my mind) my son's death. Last night and today I am consumed with the fear that he felt the terror I heard last night and that he also felt that pain. There was nothing to suggest this in his body, but the thoughts will not leave me. I really wish I had not heard that.
I had been thinking a lot about the coyotes that have come to live invisibly (for the most part) among us in cities. I had been thinking of them as a metaphor . We drove the coyotes to live among us because we overpopulated and took their territory--thus, "our" territory inevitably becomes theirs. In many ways the coyotes are like our own hungers for love and belonging. We drove them further and further from our internal cities, crowding the space with material things and vacuous concepts like celebrity and wealth-addiction. Now our own hungers have come back to live amongst us, snatching our cats, devouring our chickens, terrifying predators of beings we hold dear. After last night, they are more than metaphor.
Sorry, this is kind of derailing the thread. It's just that so often when we speak of death it is an abstract concept. I have seen death up close in violent and non-violent ways in my life and each time I am made aware that it is next to impossible to hold the awareness of the reality of it. Right now I am unnerved and physically reacting to those screams echoing in my head but my human brain will eventually edit them out for sanity's sake.
I had been thinking a lot about the coyotes that have come to live invisibly (for the most part) among us in cities. I had been thinking of them as a metaphor . We drove the coyotes to live among us because we overpopulated and took their territory--thus, "our" territory inevitably becomes theirs. In many ways the coyotes are like our own hungers for love and belonging. We drove them further and further from our internal cities, crowding the space with material things and vacuous concepts like celebrity and wealth-addiction. Now our own hungers have come back to live amongst us, snatching our cats, devouring our chickens, terrifying predators of beings we hold dear. After last night, they are more than metaphor.
Sorry, this is kind of derailing the thread. It's just that so often when we speak of death it is an abstract concept. I have seen death up close in violent and non-violent ways in my life and each time I am made aware that it is next to impossible to hold the awareness of the reality of it. Right now I am unnerved and physically reacting to those screams echoing in my head but my human brain will eventually edit them out for sanity's sake.