The Scorpion And The Bird

Hindsight

Some things are more prone to end than others.

The woman was free. Yet, at the moment, she felt no desire to fly at all. Her heart, one half of a whole, was lost in the nostalgia of long forgotten days. It had  left her alone to wander the world. But without her guideing lights. The scorpion and the bird. The blond ended up walking in circles.

It brought her back to the end. To the burning house, where she paused. Her tired eyes observed the sparks of the eternal fire rise up. Watching how the small red sparks met the far end of the night sky to join the golden stars up there. Lightening up the dark between them. Like fireflies they lapsed into death. And if it was only for the blink of an eye, before they were eventually enclosed by darkness completely, it tought her something. Something, she was not to keen to learn about.

And then, when the horizon was touched by the first rays of the sun, the woman continued to walk. The sky, dipped in shades of purples, reds and blues illuminated the path she had to take.

Every now and then on her walk, the blond would come across the well. The one, she had come across in her vision so long ago.

Oddly enough, the strange pull that the well had rediated returned. It pined for the woman to take a look inside. The blond didn´t fight the feeling. She walked to the edge, put her hands down and looked.

It was still filled by a deep black body of water. So ludicrous calm that her reflection was as clear as polished glass. But it was not the woman who looked back at her. There were no warm honey colored eyes, no happy dimpled smile, no. It was a bleak face that returned her look. Chipped and mucky skin and tired eyes that had seen, without fail, more than absolutely necessary. The face which looked back, although it felt like her, felt alien.

It was in fact her, more or less, as it was merely the shell of her past self. Marked by the signs of time, her sorrow her grief... all and yet, she had lived through nothing more than the rest of the world had. The only difference was the woman´s way of faceing the painful truth.

She wasn´t like the other people, though and so she had hid behind a safe mask to keep a safe distance from the truth.

And while, the blond hasn‘t been scared of the fall. That one was inevitable. She was incredibly fearfull of faceing the truth, of being unable to realign the broken pieces of her, on her own.

In the end that reputed path of hideing behind a white lie had broken her. Hence, blinded by her grief she had looked away. It was easier to ban emotiones that could possibly hurt her and created phantasmas to cope with them then to face the truth. Thus, in her twisted mind she had created the scorpion and the bird. A vain attempt, of s substitute, as she knew she would never get back Zulema, let alone over her.

All the while she was forming those ideas she was forgetting the raison d'être. The longer she hold on to the ghost of her lover, the more her reminiscence of that raven haired woman faded. Until Zulema was no more than a feeling.

And although she had not run astray, the blond had begun to totter. Her mask was crumbleing. At the end it wasn´t made of diamonds, but formed out of emotions meant to shield her. It was a delicate fassade not meant to last forever. And inevitably that maskerade, she had held up for so long, fell. Macarena following in it´s wake.

Ramala, had been right after all. The path of concealing the truth was no path to reach the peace of mind. Her delicate mask had shattered into a million shards of glass, as she finally tipped over and hit the stale ground below. She was broken beyond retrieval. (1)

Afflicted by that revelation she strode away. Walking on, branded by her past and present, the woman let her lazy gaze zone out. The mine of that broken face before her eyes. She was not sad anymore nor vengeful, just numb. And that was even worse.

Defeated by life the blond walked on, until the circle met it´s start. The spot where both worlds met. Her infinite path had brought her back to the river, where she had lain Zulema to rest. It was as calm as the well had been. But this time she didn´t dare to look inside.

Before the woman knew what was happening she stood amid the edge of the universe. Between the realm of the living and the dead. Alpha and omega.

She did understand, but she did not need to anyway. Because her dead lover, had become more than a feeling of hope at the end of her road. A piece of her had guided her all along. Now Macarena trusted in that feeling she had always felt . Here at the river it was stronger than ever. The woman couldn´t recall what made this place so different from the rest. Her memories were gone. But she knew that it was of an bigger importance.

And although the person that had caused that feeling was not walking among her world, the ghost of her had been watching the blond from the side lines. Keeping her on track. And therefor Macarena would live on.

All there was now, was a faint familiar melody that was ascenting from the river. Gently, she began to to hum along with that reassureing song.

mmmhmmh mmmhmmh, mmmh mmmh mmh

mmmhmmh mmmhmmh, mmh mmh

And suddenly right there in that moment, she felt safe. The vibrations of her vocal chords had set something free. Something that made the idea of falling, almost seem like flying.  And she could make out a faint deep voice. Soft and warm, almost soporific. That told her to let go, to move on.

Zulema was right there. She´d been waiting, watching her love steadyly from the sidelines. Although, unable to cross them. At last, she did´t belong in the world of the living. Actually she was sure she hasn´t belonged there even before she died. People had misunderstood her, they had never tried to look beneath the surface. There had been only one who dared to break through it. And that had been more than enough for her. She had found her peace with it.

Now it was Macarena´s turn. Zulema would build her wings to fly if she needed to. And even though her lover could not see her due to the lack of an physical body. The raven haired invited her, takeing her by the remaining bits and pieces of her soul.

Fly with me, she said.

And oh how that soothing voice made the woman want too fly.

Her guide

This invite was not about holding on or letting go but about understanding. The blond was send round and round in a circle so she could answer the question of, why. Why did the things happen, why to her, why her lover, why...

Ultimetly, "why" seemed to be answered. The woman had fallen victim to herself, not the world. It had been her actions that made her to who she is now. Because it´s everyone playys the game of life for their own.

And Death once her enemy,  the blond realized, did not need to be her ruin, or anyones really. It is all a matter of perspective and Death, she came to understand, is simply the perpetual circle of life.

Finally Macarena came to understand,

that even the year itself dies, at the last change of seasons, when winter finally falls over the world.

That you cannot hold on to something for forever.

That it’s a sickness to try and do so.

That Life is as inimitable and short-lifed as a moon flower. And even the utmost beautiful flower petal´s fate, once they had blossomed, is to wither.

And that she, just like everyone else, would have to let go at some point in time. No matter how delicite the subject of passing on may be.

At the very end on her journey Macarena came to terms with her blinded perspective of truth.

Nothing is infinite.

With that revelation, albeit not happy, she had found the courage to rise up that twisted perception of life that had been anchored inside her mind. Courge in her case did not mean that the the blond wasn´t scared anymore, just that she was brave enough to go on.

Ready, to set her sails and travel the seven seas. Or fly above them. And if she needed to she was willing to bring everything to an end. And with it, the hurt in her heart and the pain of her scars, everything she had collected and pushed aside.

She was ready to leave the dream, she had been stuck in for the past months, for herself to live again. Perhaps she would even greet death perfectly happy as to persue anoter one. For what dreams might come with death is unbeknownst to us. And only those who accompany Death have the privilege to know. Macarena, was meant to find out.

Therefore she welcomed the voice’s offer. And it answered her.

Come with me, close your eyes and wade with me, into the breaking waves. You shall be washed away. Cleaned of all your woe. You ought rest. Come, listen to my song and walk. And I will be your watchman, keeping you company on the path you walk. Go, come with me, walk with me into the unknown.

With her last will Zulema let the bird return. She had liked Macarena´s interpretation of her better self as a bird. It felt fitting, they were versitile, but most importantly, they were free.

The bird that flew low over the river now, craseing the surface withits wings, was an Eagle. Zulema had chosen it because they represent courage, rebirth, and power.All of what her lover needed.

Once the water had calmed again, the bird let it´s head fall back in order to fill the world with an happy squeal. Soon the two lovers would rise from their past to be reunited. And the stars on the canopy would looked down on them jealous of their new shine.

The eagle was overwhelmed by happiness, looked straight at Macarena. And the woman could see a tear of rejoice spilling over the rim of it´s dark marble like eyes. Eventually the teardrop reached the edege of the bird´s face and breaking through the polished glass surface of the river. Swallowing not only the tear but also the bird that had follwed it´s way. The eagle had drowned itself.

To ensure that the butterfly effect was set in motion. A small change in the natural orders and it, most certainly, lead to a much bigger change. One flap and chaos could follow.

The single drop send a ring of water over the surface. Evenly it expanded and met the shore. A second one followed a bit more intense than the last one. Then a third one followed and soon. The intensity constantly swelled. Until, at some point it became to turbulent and the water spilled over the shore.

The single tear, not belonging to the realm of the living, was filling up the the desert, naturing it with water and nutriend matter. Lastly it enclosed Macarena. The water rose, and rose and rose reaching her calves. It threated her.

And the blond knew that if there was a God he wouldn´t spare angels who had sinned. They would be banned.

But the woman was no angel. She had no peaceful soul. Or sacred wings. The ones she had belonged to a bird. A budgie. She was one at heart. But still, those wings were not meant for swimming. The woman tried to swim in that steadily riseing water but she could not. As a matter of fact her wings weight her down just now. Makeing those laws of a God apply to her after all. Perchance this was a her end.

The question had changed. It was not what but where would she go- Because she belonged to neiter. Not to heaven nor to earth and not necessarly to hell. Frankly speaking was she nomansland. So were would she end up? Wherever Death would send her, she was ready. It actually didn´t matter to her as long as the feeling within her remained.

Face looking up towards the gloomy sky. Macarena took in the surreal moment she had found herself in. She shut her eyes. In an attempt to distancing herself from the hurt she might encounter during her next journey.

With a pose of sacrifice, her head tuened towars the sky and her arms outstreched. Macarena waded deeper into the water. She would welcomed death like an old friend. And as her body was enclosed by the water, she though of nothing. It was only when her head broke through the surface, when she began to drown, and her breath slowly escaped her lungs, that she was taken over by panic. And how could she not? When the pain slithered in to her body. Takeing over every pore. 

Was this a dream?Macarena thought in doubt. No, it was to painful to be that. Hurt, she remembered, could not be experienced in a dream. And it dawned on her then, as the water was extinguishing her weak flames. That this was peace... She was at the end of her road, if she wanted it to be. But for all that it hurt just as much as when she´d been at war. There was no definite end to suffering it seemed.

Zulema saw her lover´s frustration and tried to keep her afloat.

Don´t fight it. The hurt. The burn. The darkness coming in.

The voice said, guiding her over to the other side.

It´s the gift of the living to feel so much. So don´t fight it. The light can only shine in the dark. Let it in. Let it wash over you. Consume you. Feel it. All of it. It simply means you are alive. And at the end of the night there´ll always be the light of day.

Macarena gave in, and the less she faught the less it hurt. She welcomed the pain. The burn of her lungs. For once she did not hide from it.

Thus, her skin, once covered with the dried blood of her unspeakable sins, was washed clean. Right there she repent. And just like scorpion, Macarena learned to breathe beneath the water.

On the other side Zulema´s face lit up. A smile crossed over her features. As she saw her lover succeeding. Soon they´d be reunited.

Walk to me. She called. I can see. I am there. And if you trip and threat to fall I will be there too. I´ll be there, I will catch you when you fall. 

Macarena followed the voice. Determined to reach the other side. Over the muddy floor, her feet roamed and and the longer she walked the more she felt her heart getting closer. Eventually, the blond walked up to the sandy shore. Like a godess she ascented from the water. She had reached the other side.

Revelation

Unburdened she breathed again. And she started to cry. Arms still outstretched she looked up into the dawn of day, so reliefed she laughed and selflessly gave her tears to a bigger power. And suddenly it started pouring rain. Joining Macarena. This time it were no acidic tears that tortured her. No. This time the sky seemed to have found reason for peace in this time of transition. Almost like a silent peace offering the rain granted her comfort. Buring out her fire, suffocating the last bits of evil fire within her. And she could feel the last pieces of rage leave.

And while her mind and soul were still arriving at paradise, her physical body remained on the other side. It was floating for a moment longer before her body finally disolved into ash. It´s little grains of dust following the rivers currents. The flow of life. Macarena too, was at peace now. And the rain calmed down to a drizzle.

It had caused drops to creep down over the blond´s arms, over her hands, smoothly finding its way down to her calves. Soaking through the white linen. Then, at the end of her calves the drops merged into peaceful streams that formed a puddle by her feet. This time it was clear. There were no remains of her past. She was new. Cleaned of sin.

At the same time in front of Zulema the blond´s frame started to smoke of the heat of the loseing fire and the cold of the rain. The white smoke rose up to the clouds. joining the inhabitans of the sky. Macarena had to die. Everything had to. Nothing can live without transience. So maybe the clouds in the sky are more than just dust, grime and water. At least this one was a soul. 

She dissolve before the raiven haired only to realign her soul at Zulema´s side. Because the soul can exist without matter but the body itself can not. It had to be exchanged to exist in paradise. It was a connection to the other world, and that wasn´t meant to be.

Macarena stood there opposite her in the same manner she had walked into Paradise. Not daring to open her eyes just yet. Afraid she would see something she did not want to. "I´ll go." Had been the woman´s decidion. It had been her own free will to welcomed death like a friend. And now she had to find closure in that. Regardless of the doubts that had returned. It had been a final decison.

At some point she had to look. And when she let her head fall back to face her new reality, it was not death who greeted her. It was Zulema. A safe haven where she could lay down her anchor anew.

Macarena had a feeling that she knew the woman. There was not much more. Besides small sparks like the fireflys only little snippets of memories. And a name.

Suleima. She breathed.

The two of them had to start somewhere. A name was a start and that had to be enough for now. Zulema endowed her lover an honest smile. That said more than a dream could have ever done.

Easy tiger. Right here we can stop. We could stay frozen in this instant. Forgetting the turning of time. Standing still, steady like the stars on the firmament. My love, we can have it all, if only we want to. We have the world at our feet and the sky holds no limits for us. We have all the time in the universe. And I promise you a piece of me. Even if, all I have is stories. But I guard your memories too, they will be return to you, as I tell you the story of us, of me and you. Let´s defy the order of the world together. Let this be our little infinity.

The blond understood, they spoke clearer with their bodies than with words and so Macarena respond with a dimpled smile. One thing was certain, Zulema wouldn‘t let her look back to the grey stream. She´d keep her safe, and wouldn´t allow her to hold on to the yesteryear. Not now, that the they coud stray from the sidelines and explore their realm anew. The world was their oyster. And they were free.

Omega

Grassy eyes travelled up, loseing their gaze from the others lips to meet earth colored ones.  A hand reached out dareing to unite clean skin. It was a featherlight touch on Macarena´s hand. Barely there yet, close enough to send shivers down her spine. It was the scorpions hand. And it sparked the not yet faded smoke on fire again. All that had been left was the melody and a name but when the hand had tenderly came in conntact with her skin it had lit up the fire anew. And Macarena asked her to tell her their story. Zulema obeyed, she showed her the most important memory of all. The simple touch of electric skins had triggering a little déjà vu through which she relived one of a million invaluable moments.

It was them on a little patio. Macarena was washing the raven hair of Zulema, while she confessed to her.

Rubia, we walk our way in life and with time we experiance pain. But the more we live, the more we understand that those experiances inevitably belong to life. That we can‘t and should not cling to something fleeting as life, or a set sight on whatever, forever. I´ve been running away for all my life. Away from my mother, away from the man she sold me too, away from prison, and eventually from you. At first, from you... Because I was scared. Scared because I knew what life is, what it gives and how it takes from you without mercy. I was scared to confide in you, for love never brought me any good. But I came to realize that with you it was different. Never in my life....not since I can think...well I never felt at home. But our time together...it was the closest thing I ever had to a home. And there is no need to run when you have a home, Maca. So I stopped.

Macarena had been running aswell. For the justice, Zulema didn´t experiance in life. In the end for both of them.

They might have lost part their story along the way but. But that moment, the feeling it spawned, was enough.  She was a blank canvas and Zulema the finished painting. With all it´s flaws and shine. She would share her colors and together they would paint another one.

Macarena was ripped out of her thoughts when the hand in her palm tugged slightly on hers. Come with me. Walk with me into the unknown. The gesture asked. And Maca squeezed the other woman´s hand with a smile. I´ll follow you. Until the end of days. It said.

So together as one they entered into this new chapter of life in death.

Paradise, Macarena grinned, looked a lot like the garden she had encountered in the house. They were walking through neatly arranged flower patches with windig paths, animals of all kinds eyed the new cohabitant. While produceing the most wonerful melodies of life. Everything was tinted in the brightest colors, and the trees carried the richest fruits. There was the rythmic noise of plunging waves on the shore. She was met by a soft breeze, as the souls of  those they had lost along the way were greeting her cheerfully. Her father, her mother, Sole, Altagracia....they were all their by her side. And the sun smiled down on them warming their skin. Life was good.

The two spend the day talking, catching up, exploring, relearning, remembering. And when the night ventured out, they walked down to the beach. On the was towards the breaking waves the sand tickled them between their toes. Although, not for long. As soon enough they came to a hold on the shore, where their feet were freed of the stubborn grains of sand.

For a moment in time, they gazed at the horizon silently admireing the setting sun. It was the oddly domestic instant, that let Macarena rested her head on zulemas shoulder and the older woman rested hers on top of blond locks. Their hands found each other on their own account, enlaceing their fingeres. Right there their fire was shineing brighter than the glowing ball of light on the horizon. It was their gift. To light up the dark between each others heart. Macarena broke the silence, but not the magic of the moment. She asked her lover, adoring the sinking sun.

“Why did people love the soul of me but feared the ghost of you?”

“Because you were a white lie. And I the painful truth my dear.”

and she kissed the blond head on her shoulder affectionate, deeply content with the reality they found themselves in now. Together at last. After a lifetime of running, one for justice one simply away from life. But now they had reached the finish line. There was no need to run anymore. Perchance even an idea can be a home. The blond´s thought resonated in her. Her home, the idea, had been a person all along.

And so it was that two opposites, came to rest in each other’s arms, as lovers, in death as they had been in love. Together they ran their world away. They had managed to meet in a common place. And in some messed up way they had learn to love unconditionally. Love the other, love life and themselves. They didn´t have to chase after happiness anymore either as it stood right in front of them. They came back to the start, back to the caravan. In the end,  that small home was all they ever needed. It´s where they´ve been feeling the lightest. The very place where they fallen for the other, where they had found their peace. And until their end of days they ought wander the lands of their own realm by each other´s side. With the caravan amid it all. The center of life. Their constant in both life and death. Their second home. Where they lived on laughed and loved untroubled. Death for them was life ad infinitum.