The sun burned through a dampened, grey sky like molten lava. It was shocking, out of place, and all the same charming to her. Never had she viewed such a powerful sun, for it pushed it’s way through the wall of darkened skies and spread it’s burnt orange colors until they bled red and then gave the clouds back their territory. Symbolic to her, as many things were these days, she etched the vision to her memory for fear of never remembering the sight again. She wished she had other means to capture the heavens, she wished she could put it in a globe and keep it by her bedside. When she was lonely she could pick it up, see the clouds swirling an angry dance in the concave glass and in the middle she could see the fierce glow of the sun slowly start to burn it’s way through the storm. She could watch the big, fat raindrops splatter against the thick walls and lazily allow themselves to fall to the leveled bottom. It comforted her knowing the presence of her own strengths considering the time of year. All the same it was that time of year and she wished she could show him the sight she was seeing though in her dream like state she was sure he could see the same vision only at a different angle.

Her lips mouthed the words “that time of year again.” She always said it out of habit. Nearly a decade of wishing, wondering, hoping. Allowing herself to be enveloped in sorrow all over again and she was tired of it. He was ash, others were not and she lived in a state of fury, a state of pity. “… death in that place was not a decisive element that brought life to an end. There, death was but one of many elements comprising life.” She scolded herself for her pathos and scorned the way she had carelessly thrown everyone else away.

Looking up and seeing the sun powerfully make it’s way through a curtain of black, grey and white streaked sky made her come to a final resolution. To live for herself, for her family, for her dreams. In that instant she wanted to place a call and say she wanted to tell him a million things about a million different subjects because she wanted to begin everything from the beginning. That she didn’t want to be viewed as weak, she didn’t want to be alone, that she had been vacant but filled up all at once with the wrong things.

She let the rain to wash away the last remnants of memories that were once brought back to life with hand written letters. Letters that were dug up years ago and in some sick malaise she always brought them alive in her mind by carefully reading them over and over. In a shallow gesture of goodbye she burned them in a hearth. She thought she had said her goodbye then. This time she gave ceremony permission to take over and finally heal.

Scents of sage, tobacco, hot rocks, and earth filled her up. She would feel her heart synchronize with the beating of the drums and she was safe again. In Mother’s womb she cried and she took to chanting. The words came to her again as if the murmurs were an old friend walking with her and holding her hand while she went through the stages of letting go. She could sing instead of moan and felt a calm caress her spirit. Everything was right again with her body, with her mind, with herself. She had self again and when it was all over she would be exhausted, thirsty and hungry.

Looking up at the sun as it made it’s decent in the horizon she smiled as those big, fat droplets of rain splashed against her cold cheeks. She knew she believed in something but allowed a membrane to form around her, disallowing her to truly touch anyone around her or allow reciprocity to happen. This time it felt as if the rain, along with the heat from the eerie presence of the sun melted it away and she could feel surfaces again. It was an understanding of death in life that she learned.

“Death was not the opposite of life but an innate part of life.”

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