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Red Rocks & War Paint

We’d gather with the children

all in a circle on the ground

of the hut desperately trying

to scare away the cold and snow

they’d get out the storybooks

and pass them around

the pages would flutter

like butterflies

but we’d trap them

they were all just images

contractions of an idea

a slice of a whole

that defeated its magnificence

to a microscopic sample

but our imaginations filled in the rest

you knew the story

it welled itself up in your eyes

and breathed and battled in your heart

it took over you like a spirit

and professed its glory in your actions

we called you the Medium

because you’d tell the stories of

red rocks and war paint

so vivaciously that we knew

it all had to be real

And so I knew

I had to take you there

it was where you belonged

not clinging to frostbite like I was

but singing to warmth and sand

triumphantly standing on rocks

and yelling out to the distant sky

Here, I perch upon a rock

the dry air nips at my skin

I draw a deep breath

and call for you again

remember how we used to get in trouble?

you wanted to conquer the mountains

and how could I say no

we’d rustle our way to the summit

and you’d stand tall, proud,

with your fists upon your hips,

and command me to suck in the view

and of course I did

that small world

we left behind

we were above it all then

everything was so distant

so comfortable

predictable as we held it in our control

no mistakes

no wars

no chill

no pain

the only problem was

I knew that sometime

somehow

we’d have to get back down

visions dance in my head

like the aurora

one after the other

without ceasing

one day, your eyes

were like a lapped-up flame

barely licking the surface of the wick

barely dancing in the wind

and I had no idea why

I always figured you were homesick

the Medium knew her land so well

but knew so well it was gone

just memories

maybe not even real

but you sighed

an errant wind

that shook the sturdy tree

at my core

so I took your hand

"You should go there

it’s where you belong

I know

you’re homesick"

"I want to stay here with you"

"Please...

listen to me"

"You don’t want me to stay?"

"Of course I do

but I can tell...

you’re miserable"

"Just because I’m a bit sad

doesn’t mean I’m miserable"

"But..."

Then you faded away

like the sands that whip around my feet

pleading to tell them what they are

but no, they’re mocking me

telling me I could never know

were you really the Medium?

or is that just what I wished?

"What do you wish?"

"Freedom"

we equated that in different ways

Next Chapter: Notes Fluttering in the Wind