Old battle grounds – I’ve seen so many of them and the memorials built on them, monuments to human pain and unnecessary loss on a scale beyond conception. But, in saying this, is there not also another dimension to this pain and heartache?
Walking on the very ground that heard the anguished cries, saw the human carnage and felt the warmth of blood, I’ve often wondered about the earth’s memory, residing deep in the darkness of that soil, recycling the memories of her pain and woundedness and slowly, over the years, restoring herself back to health and wholeness.
Every battle ground I’ve been to always has a stillness about it with the inevitable soothing twitter of birds. The scars are there in the earth, but no longer jagged and blatant. Rather they’re hidden under a soft growth of healing and restoration.
Strange how our healing is akin to the earth’s. But then, is the earth not in us and we in the earth?