Take off the headcover. Peel off the clothes. Under the skin, and muscle and sinew, wrapped in the vessels that carry our blood, you find our bones. Bones that have broken. Bomes that have grown strong. Some that are crooked where they should be straight; some fail to leave that space to allow them to pivot. 206 of them per body - give or take any anomalies - the standard set is in that amount.
When they are disembodied and the viscera worn away by time, without extraordinarily intentional scrutiny, to most people, they look the same, save size - say a child versus an adult. Most of us couldn't tell you from what gender it came, from what continent, from what faith. We couldn't tell you if it traveled the world, or if it never left a few mile radius We couldn't tell you if it was rich or poor, educated or not, artistic, or athletic - or both. Did come from someone who was alone, or part of a large community? Was it someone who enjoyed celebrity, whether good or notorious on a global scale, or did they lead a relatively repetitive life. What did it eat, what rules did it follow, what language it spoke...all mysteries.
While scientists could shed some light on some of these aspects of what those bones did when they supported a living creature - to the layman, we are blind to it. Just another pile of bones to add to the heap.
Our time when we animate those bones on this side of the grass is so brief. I'll never understand why anyone would choose to use that time by continually existing in a state of hate, and be willing to sacrifice themselves and others in some quest of power. Their faith in what comes next for their spirit, once it sheds this mortal coil, must be nothing short of extraordinary.
I cry as children are taken too soon by belligerence, by negligence, by self-righteousness. I shudder as thousands die as collateral damage in the quest for different versions of peace. I worry and wonder if it will ever stop and what is it that I don't know...that I'm misunderstanding...that I scroll past.
When I started to write this, I had no idea that the old song, "Dem Bones", from which this article's title is derived, was actually a spiritual. It was running through my head as I typed, so I decided to look it up, as once again, I got stuck on the hip bone - where the song takes you from there. Turns out, the song was inspired by a prophecy in the Book of Ezekiel - The Vision of Valley of Dry Bones, from the Tanakh (the Hebrew Bible), also known as The Old Testament in Christian Bible. I am, by no under or over estimation, any kind of biblical scholar, and as I am scrambling down the rabbit hole about this prophecy and the Book of Ezekiel overall, I am a bit taken aback by what it actually is about. Coincidence? Go read it for yourself (not the entire book - there are plenty of summary resources on the web) and you tell me...
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