Note* Listen to 'So Easily' by Kathryn Calder!
'How can you so easily fold?'
HG Well's voice echoes within her mind. Her state of tension, her muscles' ache, and the murmur of her heart chimes back. The world is indeed a scary place, but nothing is more terrifying than a trapped mind, scavenging through the ashes of lost dreams bronzed within each lively fibre of our bodies. Only to awaken to the screams of anger and rage, hundreds of years' worth of pain born to engender its creator. She traces the heavy obsidian globe, her hands tremble, with a simple twist and turn of the sphere she could bring her back. She could set her free, she could see how those wisps of dark hair materialize before her. She could once again hear her name so lovingly uttered from those lips.
Nothing is more scary, nothing is more painful than a consciously torn love.
/
'How are you so easily fooled?'
'One trigger, Helena, one trigger is all it takes.', cold words whispered by her angel. The stone angel that stood before Christina's grave, her arms folded in a Lazarus pose, head tilted looking down upon the priest; who seemed to be burdened by his dark robe, the fabric as if showered in sin, with only that pitiful tome to guide his hollow words. 'Jesus wept.'… 'Lazarus rose from his tomb.'…
Do we only need the tears of God to resurrect then?
'Shoot me now. Kill me. But not like that, not like a coward. I want you to look me in the eye and take my life.'
Myka. A rivulet of tears streams down her gentle face, her eyes betraying her fear and hurt. But beneath them she could see her truth, her love and immense hope. Everything that the world has taken away from her. She drops to the ground, her knees heavy, and her mind tired. She's been fooled by the good.
/
'How can you so easily go?'
The musky smell of written words, bound by the disintegrating seams of dusty covers, of old tomes and canons; they soothe her. She sees her similarities with these old books, holding her memories as they hold their century old words. With each spoken word you breathe in new life, with each memory you give it new light.
'Hello, Myka.' Is this true? To see her in flesh, to see her love utter those same words for the second time. Or is this reality simply the overlapping of rusty memories?
No, HG feels as real as she was in her memories. Her lips feel as soft, her hair it tangles between her fingers. The warm tears wiped away from her cheeks by smooth fingertips. The lavender smell of her hair the same as she had remembered, only sweeter.
'I missed you, Helena, I missed you so much.'
'I'll always be here, my love. I'm here now, Myka.'
Dreams they disappear, memories they fade, and books they decay into dust.
But us? We stay. We stay as long as there's hope, as long as the sky is blue, as long as we don't let go.
And love won't ever let go easily.