Lady Justice

by Catherine Marinelli

She stands in silence. Like judge and jury, calculating the weight of humanity's sins and grievances, counterbalanced by sunlight and goodness. Finding the balance between opposition and duty, determining punishment versus forgiveness. On her exhale, the line before her moves forward after each proceeding. 

Humanity crumbles from lack of foundation in the head and heart of their souls. Falling under the weight of political powerhouses and figureheads towering in front of the sun's beaconing rays. Falling to famine, drought, exhaustion as a species and lack of connection towards one another. Falling victim to paranoia and arbitrary societal necessities, neither of which were ever based in fact or writing. She cannot help but exist, mute and immobile, for it is not her place to intervene in this experiment. She cannot influence any potential outcomes, forced to leave them be to unfold however they may. 

She stands tall, stoic, next to Death, the sleeves of their garments brushing before parting ways. Death, the collector, dear friend of the Determiner, working side by side to maintain the pathway for souls departed from the realms these two stand watch over. She cannot remember when Death joined her side, or when she first started in her role; perhaps they both existed before time itself, though neither party would know that. They have no overseer, no guiding light other than the cosmos around them, ebbing and flowing with energy neither created nor destroyed. They know one day, humanity's time will come and the species will cease to exist, but she and her dear friend will always remain, even after the biggest and brightest shining star disappears into blackness. 

She represents a metaphysical fork in the road to eternity, long arms draped in garments that hide her hands, only the subtle movement of her limbs pointing the way, left or right. Neither she nor soul knows which way leads to where, but creation whispers in her ear which way the scales are tipping. Blindfolded, she cannot see the bronzed scale before her, nor can she see the soul in front of her. Merely a messenger, listening to space and soul alike as her inner being subconsciously places weights appropriately. She craves to remove the blindfold, to see what exists before her, but doing so would destroy her innocence and would stain her judgement, and she would find herself at the back of the line. She fears who she would see at the front replacing her. 

She stands in silence. Her purpose is to listen and convey judgement. She will do so until she has made the acquittance of the last soul in existence. Yet she will still stand, for there is no one to ascertain the weight of her existence. So she and Death, old friends, will reunite once more and will walk the universe until it reclaims their energy. 

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She loves writing, reading, cinematography, and her cat. 

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