They Are Here

Night comes too soon in the southern Appalachians.  It didn't use to be that way.  But when the sandman comes, you know it is time to fall asleep.

There is a looming presence in my room at night.  Now.  They are not ready for me to see them. But I do. I see them outside.  Their handiwork.  Stones fill the backyard as though someone is throwing them.  The mountain moves closer to my home.  I am aware.  Present.

I hear sounds that don't fit.  Shadows.  A knowing.  It won't be long now.  More and more of us know they are here. My head knows, too. It has been tiring.  Just absorbing all of this is wearing.  It is also a gift for which I am grateful. 

We long for answers.  In the people we are becoming, the answers don't come from the outside.  They come from within.  We are tuned.  We know.  Everyone is talking about it.

They come on the darkest of nights.  Mine did that July 20th, four years ago.  I was supposed to see it.  To witness it.  To spread the word.  I am doing just that.  Eyes are wide open.  Ears.  But we know.  We always did.

It is time to see the collective self.  We don't have to look beyond ourselves.  Our group is already present.  We merely need to acknowledge it.  There is nothing we have to create.  It is already here.

Here.