Kahraman
no past life has been lived to lend us glory
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. He had not yet found her 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.
and that which existed before us is not ours |