She stood on the beach looking to the sea. Still. Silent. Serene. Sovereign in her being.

The scene behind her was too shocking, too abhorrent to continue to witness.

Her sand covered soles stepped toward the ascending wave climbing the shore. As she stepped each imprint was washed away.

She pressed her legs through the incoming tide and began communing with herself; ‘don’t look back’, ‘walk into freedom’, soon you soles won’t touch the sand’ we will lift you, take you, escort you to your soul’.

Treading water with ease she felt lighter and even surer of her choice to surrender to the sea. To become food, a meal or two or three for living beings in the ocean.

Further and further away from the shore, floating on top of the ocean. How long she wondered before a wave would come and take her under. She prayed it be soon. She asked her soul aspect to come quickly and for the pain of this life ending to pass in seconds.

Floating. Looking down. Her body is gone. The ocean calm.

On the land many scenes are disturbing. Little ones wear masks. People are being turned away from eating places, hospitals and public places. Uniformed thugs are stopping, questioning, hitting to the ground, handcuffing people without papers and stamps of identification.

Curfews. Limits on range of movement. Masks and distancing from others have become the new norm.

Head to toe dressed in black and full armor of guns, tasers, batons and cuffs mercenaries beat down doors to invade homes. Demanding parents produce their children for mandatory stabbing of poison into their bloodstream.

She, as a released soul, without a thought for her ‘individuality’ enters the body of a mercenary. It immediately stops. And recognises something has overtaken it. To its horror it finds itself injecting the poison into its body.

One child saved.

A thousand mercenaries to go.

photo credit: k.bell. Barnaby’s church, Norfolk Island

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