Life and Death

Everywhere, there is movement. I can feel it, when my bare feet touch the ground. People are moving, things are happening.

Here and there things happen. A person dies, another is accused. A person cries, and someone rejoices. It happens, always. They're always happening.

In a forest, something stirs. On a throne, someone weeps. Underground, something whispers. In a town, someone rejoices.

Things are happening all the time, and I can feel it in my bones. I hear so many more whispers, things alive and dead both speaking. What do they say? The noise is maddening at times. I block it out, and the silence becomes deafening.

Onawataya is crying, but she won't speak. She doesn't hear or see me. Aren't the dead supposed to be the noes trying to be seen? Why is it me that can't be seen when I want to be seen, and cannot hide when I do not?

Since when does one hear the dead and the living at once?