This Old Earth

Keeps me in line

Heather Martin (@cadenzacreates)
Blue Insights
Published in
2 min readJun 27, 2022

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Photo by Elena Mozhvilo on Unsplash

“Oh, earth, you’re too wonderful for anybody to realize you.”

Thornton Wilder, Our Town

There’s not much new to this place we call Earth — the wallpaper, once silk grandeur, is cracked, and people don’t want wallpaper anymore. Or that’s what “they” say, and I guess it’s true — this is a “they-ism” I don’t question. Would you?

Some say the creak of the floorboards is “charm,” others say it’s cause for alarm. All I know is I can’t sneak out at night without the crack, crick, creak alerting the whole world of my plight. Ah, try as I may, try as I might — this old Earth keeps me in line.

The dusty mantle where our faded memories sit — pictures of life and death intermixed — joy and chaos, love and war — sitting here atop the fireplace that used to roar with flames of fervor — oh, what a fantastic sight. Now it remains cold, unable to light. But the bats in the chimney appreciate the den — no more fire for us, but now there’s a home for them.

And sometimes, I sit at the cracked window and look out upon the lawn. Once a lush green tapestry, now a patchy brown travesty. I can almost hear the cries of gleeful ghosts traipsing far and wide, alight with once wonderment now turned to fear. A spectral warning, hanging in the air — even the phantoms know the end is near.

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