Friday, June 18th. 2021
“It’s getting a lot, a lot of ashes. It’s everywhere. All around me.
As far as I can see through the scratched portholes of my protective hood, ashes, really, as far I can see. The daylight is fading, it is getting really cold. I have to finish my task.
I am a Cooper’s Hawk and a juvenile one that is! I live in the desert, and roam the prairie.
I scooped up that weakened pigeon, he didn’t have a peace bringing laurel in his beak.
So fair game. I did take over his role. Bring “peace” ! Bring Comfort! But the task is overwhelming. I am on it though, I will bring it on, just stop the deluge of ashes coming in.
I brought my toolkit, it is pretty good, I’d say. I have little bottles with various powerful pastes. I brought a satchel with lead from an alchemist, some eucalyptus of course.
I brought my brushes to absolve them, I can reach far with these. I have the holy fluid,
the savior to end this drama. They should get a droplet of it.
They ? They…. they are gone. Where they ever there?
I don’t know, I was told to bring my accessories to bring conciliation.
The ashes keep coming, sprinkle it on my head, I can’t smell it anyway.
Sprinkle it in mourning on your grave. Just stop the deluge of ashes coming in.
I wear a hood like the doctors back in time wore during the horrifying days of the Great Plague. My hood protects me from the smell of bygone, yes, like bye and gone. My hood protects me from the stink, I have herbs stuffed deep into the beak, just like way back then, good stuff stuffed in. Eucalyptus, mint, desert herbs from the place where I live,
and of course camphor dispensing the most powerful perfume of all, also good for chasing away the moths and flies.
I am a hawk, I am associated with the Soul! I have the sharpest eyesight of all raptors, and yes, I can give you a higher perspective on something that holds you back. I am ever vigilant. I do see remarkable events. Even a heavy rock can arise. Really, I am seeing it. Do I imagine this ? Maybe. So should you. Woe me now though, I am having visions, confusing they are,
it is getting late, maybe too late. Please cut up the camphor some more. I will make it right, but not today. I’ll see to you tomorrow.”
“Ring around the Rosies, a pocket full of posies, ashes, ashes, we all fall down.”
You might remember this song. This rhyme has often been associated with the Great Plague or Black Death. This explanation is the most common since the mid 20th century. The song goes back to 1790, originally an English nursery rhyme. Very similar rhymes are found across Europe. Although Folklore scholars regard the Great Plague explanation as baseless,
I did take this association, it is the only one I know. ‘Rosies’ referring to the skin rash, ‘posies’ the bouquet of flowers to camouflage the smell of the dying, ‘ashes’ to cremation. And ‘all fall down’ is exactly what happened.