the impression we leave behind

Really, I wasn’t being gross, vulgar, weird, or morbid when I took this frog impressioned photograph. I was simply walking along Marlyn Street in Hammonton, New Jersey enjoying the sunshine, humidity, and warmth on my skin — having some thoughts, some feelings, some ideas and this long gone frog’s impression leapt into view as if it was still alive beckoning me to reckon with its continued existence in concrete permanence.

I wondered if the frog fell from a tree to land just so? Did it jump at just the right or wrong angle from solid ground aiming for what it thought was new solid ground? How much suffering did it feel and was anyone or anything else nearby to bear witness to this catastrophic event?

What stands out to me from these first two paragraphs written only yesterday but experienced back in April is the bearing witness to suffering question and considering the impression the frog left behind. This experience left an imprint on me. Yes, I’ve seen evidence of critters that lived long ago embedded in rocks and tree resin and all sorts of fossilized entities, but the absence of the frog in the concrete during my lifetime and the questions about impression and bearing witness have remained. And just what happens to the witness when they bear from a distance and can’t or won’t do anything about the suffering and loss? And just how much forethought can we give to our being—collective or singular—our presence, our essence, our words, our actions—the shape our bodies might make—before our impressions are set in concrete?