from the islands that we’ve crossed
we shake the water off
Days had passed, and looking back, she could not recall them with her usual clarity. Something about the dullness of this place had melded the passing of time into some strange kind of blur. Maybe it was because she didn’t often get to see the sun – not the way the sun was supposed to be admired – the only king in the endless blue sky. There were many kings here. Or at least, there were many who thought they were kings in their own right. Guadalupe had kept her distance, as she’d said she would, doing all in her power to respect the words of the one who had allowed her to stay. But she had little control over those that called this dark land home. Even if she did, nothing would have changed. The black mare was content with her solitude, but she relished the time she spent in the company of others. For the most part.
Guadalupe was not an unkind soul, but nor did she stand like a pup with her tail tucked and take insults, or suffer cold words. She was a stranger in this land, and though she was grateful that she had temporarily granted sanctuary and shelter here, she would not put up with disrespect. The borders had been walked by her many times now. She was good at walking away. She missed the freedom that came from travelling overland, never waking in a familiar place, meeting others of all walks of life. When she dreamed at night, it was of deserts, and valleys, and great, towering mountain ranges that stretched so far and stood so tall that none could take their entirety in. Her heart yearned for these things, and yet… She found a happiness here, that maybe none would ever understand. She was, after all, an unbelonger. Outside of these borders, she knew no-one, and inside these borders, there were few she could claim to be anything more than acquaintances. And yet she was happy. She didn’t understand it.
The days no longer passed without anything to remember them. She was not alone anymore – she had borne a son, and for the first time in years, a foal suckled from her. She loved him, with all her heart, and he was why she had stayed, along with a few other reasons that she was afraid to voice, lest someone hear her. The day he had been born had been a dark and cold day for spring. The day he had spoken her name for the first time, she had been uncharacteristically optimistic. The day she thought she had lost him had been the only day she had ventured deep into the heart of the darkness, and she had challenged all who had stood in her path with a fire burning inside her that she hadn’t known she possessed. I am searching for my son, and if you do not let me pass, I will move you. Never before had she been called fierce, not even when she’d first become a mother. But now – now she was something to behold. She had found him, safe and sound, and immediately returned with him to the Edge. She lingered there, a most polite and humble guest, and found that her presence can’t have been such a hindrance, for she was permitted to stay a while longer than she had initially been allowed.
Guadalupe was grateful.
But now, she felt restless. Her boy, he was growing strong, and his spirit was such that he was no longer content to lurk between two worlds with her. It was time for them to go, and as the sun rose, turning the world grey and murky in the heavily vegetated spot she had spent much of her time, she lingered upon the border. Hesitation was something new to her, and it didn’t sit well with her. Snorting, she turned an ear back, and stamped a hoof. But the familiarity of the soft and loamy earth, the way it gave so easily, it shot through her and cut like a shard. Resentment was something foreign to her also, and with and quick and sure toss of her head, she ripped that certain darkness from her breast. She was not welcomed here, not at present. That much had been made clear. She was a proud creature, and she would not hold her head low and beg. They would leave, and find another place to call home. She and her son. She had not yet found his name, but Guadalupe felt that it would be revealed to her soon enough.
“Lupe,” the boy murmured in his mother’s ear, his muzzle soft on her skin. “What are we waiting for?” The dark mare turned in the dimness of the morning, and regarded him with a sharp smile. “I am waiting for the light, my boy. The darkness brings peace, but memory and knowledge and understanding are things that belong to the day, and these are the things which I cherish.” Neither said anything more, for the one was deep in thought, while the other felt like he was wallowing in confusion. He didn’t know what some of his mother’s words had meant, but it was not these that had him so confused. It was her waiting for the light. He didn’t understand how she couldn’t see it pouring out of her, shining like a beacon in the shadows. The fire in her burned still, even stronger than the day she had stoked it and come looking for him. It was no longer wild and reaching – for now it was contained, and served as a comfort, as something to admire.
The boy knew little about the world – he had heard much about it, but Guadalupe said that hearing isn’t knowing, and he remembered her telling him once that this was the very reason she had come to this dangerous and dark place. Not because she had heard, but because she wanted to know. One night, when they had been alone for several days, the colt had asked her - do you know now? She had laughed, and shook her head gently. A little, perhaps, but not nearly enough.
Two ideas rolled around in the colt’s mind. The first was that perhaps his mother didn’t truly want to leave, at least not just yet, despite the restlessness that had left her unable to sleep well at night these past few days. The second thought was that, maybe he’d like to stay, because like his mother, he wasn’t satisfied with his knowing. As he leaned into her side, and their breath mingled in the cool morning air, a third thought occurred to him. It wouldn’t be the same, not if she left. She was the sun in a land full of kings. One day, the boy picked up the thought, and chewed on it for a while. One day, he wanted to be light, and to give light, the way she did.
guadalupe
like a silver glacier slowly shrinks away |