a mere shadow

I'll never forget first learning in high school about the bombs dropped on Hiroshima. The most poignant part of the lesson, what made it real was knowing that what was left of some people was an imprint of their former selves on the pavement. All that was left behind was their shadow. Their bodies had been incinerated. I have often wondered if the gas chambers in Aushwitz are still filled with the shadows of the millions of Jews who were murdered there. I've never been to there, but my guess would be that there is a strong sense of presence placed on the whole compound.

Perhaps shadows are soulprints; no two are alike.

When I catch my own shadow pouring out of me, it makes me feel less alone. Maybe that's why melancholy hovers on a cloudy day..... lost shadow, lost soul.

Shadows humanize objects. When I see the bare branches of a tree projected on the side of a building, it seems like its an embrace. They connect us to nature. We have that in common. Human, animal or object, our shadows touch down on the earth where we all evolve from, and where we will end up. They are our imprints of life signifying the time between birth and death.

What forms them? What substance are they made of? I like to think that mine is filled with the spirits both past and present who are keeping an eye on me. Loved ones who have died. Memories held dear. Courage to face the unknown. Reassurance from a guardian angel who may be watching over me. Conscience needed to help me make decisions or to guide me along. Whispering prayer that never ends and keeps to the beat of my movement and thoughts.

It is like my sober second thought mixed with encouragement to stretch my limits. I wonder if God hangs out there, walking along with me.........and when my shadow disappears in the night when lights are dim and the noise goes internal.......maybe that's when He seeps into my soul and stretches me the most?

Do they have a shelf life? We don't take them to our graves do we? I don't think so. The shadows left on the pavement in Hiroshima or in the gas chambers in Auschwitz.........where did they go? They are imprinted on ours as a new painful layer of awareness. We carry their shadows. We carry them.

And when we die, where will our shadows go? They will fold into the lives of our loved ones as a means to keep our stories alive. It makes me think that shadows are our collective story...........one with no beginning and no end....I find that idea reassuring.

this week's photography theme is "shadow." For more interpretations and photos, please visit Carmi at Written Inc.