She wakes from her sleep, as if the moon had shattered. What can break the moon, aside from the memories that seem as though they were three lifetimes ago. She had walked upon that other world, hadn't she? That place where color blazed on every leaf and blade, as if the stars were rainbows. The mere recollection is as a chant of joy that leaps into the heart, driven and swift, and beckons with the fury of beating wings.
At moments she watches, as they swim in sunlight and in shadowy depths of water warmed by the piercing light. Light that spread out in long sharp rays across the surface, leaving colored sparkles like a million butterflies. And they swim, as if floating, among straight tall stems of green grasses that dance against blue of sacred waters.
She remembers, as if her resurrection was finally at hand, the two as they crawl together over the rim onto the shore and sand. She listens from behind closed eyelids to the verses that sometimes sank so deep into her heart she had to strain to hear them. She opens her eyes to the silver sky and remembers the secret places, the caverns and mystical springs.
But no one else seems to notice. No one sees her remember or hears the chants and verses. No one else knows of the caverns or the deepness of waters or the warmth of the sand or the sparkling butterflies. They don't feel the longing or the wishing for that land or that time. Perhaps they were never there. Or maybe it was just a dream. And so, she will choose to forget again, until the next morning when she wakes.
Written by
Rachelle LeCount
2008
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