אתה עזבתני, אהובה
Sometimes, I laugh to myself at the titles I had been given. Queen Susan the Gentle; Queen Susan of the Horn. Was I really gentle? Of course, I told myself I was. I tried so very hard to trample their memories of Narnia, but I always did it... gently. I never told them it was outright rubbish; I told them it was a game we played as a child. A sweet game; but just that, a game. And, wielder of the Horn though I may have been, I heralded only words against the land. They always dreamed that we might somehow return. That there might be some loophole. Or that, our children may enter the land and, as we did for Professor Kirke and Aunt Polly, fill our hungry ears with stories of encounters that were only faint memories. Well, faint to me. Only to me. So often I've laid in bed whispering, "Aslan, dear Aslan, if you've ever heard me, please forgive me, please forgive me..." And so often I've attempted to solve the riddle of Why. Why did I want to forget? I have come up with so precious little. Visiting those memories are so very painful. Now, only now, the memories of my time in Narnia seem more vivid than anything else. Yet, in my youth I wanted to focus on the 'real' world. I knew I could not afford dreams. Dreams are for children; games do not help in the life of an adult. And yet, I sit here now, wondering how I could ever choose to forget my home, my dear home; my people who love me even after centuries of absence. And the Lion who was always, always there. How much time has passed there? Do the fauns still dance under the stars? Can the songs of the forests still be heard? Is Caspian's line still going strong, ruling our land with peace and wisdom? Or is there an enemy who has taken the kingdom as before? But, I know this: I will never see those shores again. And I will never know. I will never be there to protect my people. I have forsaken them.
אבל אני יכול לסלוח אותך