Scars

When you stand on a precipice,

upon the very edge of something and nothing,

It's hard to drag your eyes from the scenery.

You stand, looking at the vast sea

of possibilities before you and think;

Good God, could all that possibly be for me?

Am I really worth all that?

What if I can't reach it?

It all seems so far away,

It couldn't possibly be for me.

Then you look back at all you've come through;

The dust, the mud, the rocky terrain.

All those high points and low points of your life,

Your Journey.

For a minute you believe the lies.

That you're too dirty,

Too broken,

Too low to even achieve that valley below you.

And for just a second, you turn away;

ashamed, humiliated, embarrassed.

Worthless.

Look in the mirror.

Look at all those battle scars,

The places where the rough road dragged you,

where the spears and arrows whizzed past

and made you give everything you had just to reach the next harsh plain.

Now look at the person beneath those scars.

Do you see the shoulders still bearing the weight?

The heart that still beats stubbornly?

The soul that still yearns to dance?

The world would see your scars and say you're tired;

worn out, bedraggled... used up.

But that is not what the scars say.

The scars say,

“I have been through the battle and survived.

I have fought, to my very last strength,

And come out stronger.

I have faced the desert, the blizzard,

and every foul enemy in front of me

And I am STILL here.

I have earned my stripes,

I have earned my place here

on the precipice.”

So look in the mirror.

What do you choose to see?

Because what you choose will decide

How many of the possibilities

Are yours.

[This poem is featured in Return to Masonry]

The Sun Seeker- Pt 5

The Festival of Solem was taking over the streets of Bashyr, as it would in every settlement and planet across the system.

Golden banners drifted between streetposts, and the bells rang out several times a day in celebration. This all came to a culmination on the fifth day, when the light parade was to march triumphantly down the streets, and the great feast would be celebrated door to door.

Sehkma had the enclave awake bright and early to prepare; rugs and pillows were laid under the bright awning out front. Long trestle tables were lain out with beautiful bowls and loaves of Sola bread, ready for the listeners.

Loretelling had fallen slowly out of fashion over the years, To where the Lorekeepers were more tolerated than celebrated. But during the Festival of Solem, when people remembered tradition and reflected nostalgically on all the year had brought them, they would come to hear the old tales. They would bring their children and a special holiday offering to share, and sit for a while under the tapestries.

As head keeper of the Enclave, Sehkma wore a silk turban of gold and purple. Rashid wore a matching tunic, and organized the people and stirred the soup while Sehkma would orate and lead singing.

Jes worked with the other younger Lorekeepers to tie ragdolls and carve little ships and sun emblems to pass out, and tried not to to think of the little girl and the doll that had attracted the Solari's attention.

The bells today had rung at sunrise, and Jes had felt them reverberate through her with the same plea that had haunted her sleep; Help me.

Every time the bells rang, it impressed the message deeper into her brain. Help me, Help me. Help Me... It pressed into her brain, making it hard to focus on anything else.

The bells stopped around noon, and would not ring again until it was time to announce the parade at dusk. Jes breathed a sigh of relief as the pounding relaxed in her head, and was able to push it to the background in order to help Sehkma and enjoy the passersby.

Sehkma was reveling in all the attention, and was raptly telling the old stories, stirring the crowd to picture the intrepid explorers and devout priests that had found Solem and the seven planets.

“And not the least of the devout was Harald, the first of the Lorekeepers, who stood side by side with the Solari priests, witnessing all these events and retelling them to his kin, so that we may all remember.”

This was Sehkma's favorite story; the telling of the First Lorekeeper. She missed the days when Lorekeepers were honored as a sect of the First Children. These days they were treated more as an afterthought.

The day warmed as the hour approached, hinting at the Miracle of Solem. You could feel the hum of the crowd getting excited. Peoples attention turned to finishing their rounds of the neighborhood before the bells sang them to the edges of Temple street.

Jes knew that on the other side of the planet, in the middle of the night, the people were passing out thermoses of Starthistle tea and bundling up to step outside.

The Lorekeepers soup was well set by now, and the heady spices added to the warmth and draw of the day. Sehkma pushed bowls into everyone's hands so that they had warm bellies before running off to the parade.

Jesphyr ran some tubs of supplies back inside, then ducked into the milling crowds. The temperature continued to rise, to the balmy heat of an early autumn afternoon. The pressure was building again in her head, but she tried to ignore it. She tucked herself into a quieter corner where she could see the floats and banners without being jostled.

Temple street was already streaming with decorations and lines of people. Some families brought little glass cases with plants inside, guarding them preciously against the jostling crowds.

The telltale glow on the horizon put a hush over the crowd.

Glinting gently in the gloam, The procession made their way sedately down the middle of the street. Acolytes held banners and incense burners high over their heads while four priests carried a palanquin bearing the golden seal, a mirrored disc that usually hung in front of the temple. The remaining priests carried drums and bells at the ready. Children murmured excitedly, but their parents kept them in check, everyone waiting and watching the seal.

The strange glow on the horizon grew and grew, and the priests raised their arms. There was a sudden flash, and then in the blink of an eye, the sky exploded in a bright array of colors. Deep magentas and vibrant greens glowed across the sky in streaks as the bells and drums began to sound and the crowd finally broke open in cheers.

Jes was lost to it all. The breaking of the light hit her with the force of a mighty wave. She new the cacophony around her only as a distant buzz.

The light drew her in, and she was lost to everything else.

She was no longer tucked alone in the corner, She was enveloped in a warm presence. It infused her. Lifted her beyond everything, made her a part of everything. She saw the flowers burst open in the children's hands, the bells and banners glisten. She felt the excitement, the thrill and noise and celebration around her. But above it all she felt the presence.

The presence took no form, only the all encompassing light, full of thought and emotion; joy, concern, fear. There was knowledge, and curiosity, but it all fell away to a persistent message.

Jes felt the shock as images and thoughts flashed through her, running over each other so fast she barely comprehended them. Explosions, waves of fire, people laughing, crying, screaming, darkness. Then one clear picture of herself, her ship, flying toward a city of glass.

Her brain struggled to put it all in order, to understand. Jes could feel herself being washed away in the flow of light and sensations and thoughts. She could feel herself slipping away, but couldn't stop it.

Help me, daughter of Lore and Light!

The Sun Seeker- Pt 4

It began to rain lightly as evening settled, which Sehkma said was a good omen. Hash put out the banner announcing the telling hour, and Jes helped clear the courtyard and set cushions and tables about; close enough to enjoy the telling, but away from the damp drizzle trying to fight through the leaves above.

The big Telling Pot was placed over a real, old-fashioned fire in the middle, under the twisted trees. Sehkma threw a herbs and a lamb bone into the broth, and just as the smell of the spices broke open in the steam, the people started to file in. Many brought vegetables, but some brought bread and cheeses. Rashid sat at the pot, smiling thanks for the offerings and tossing them in the pot while Sehkma sang out greetings to their community.

Telling at an enclave was different than on the road; The people were invited to eat the soup together, and so the Tellings didn't truly start until it was ready to serve. Sekma wandered through the crowd with her cymbals and tambourine. Hashem sat beside Rashid, playing a mandolin. Jesphyr was stationed at the door, handing out bowls to the few neighbors that entered. A few homeless people drifted in, looking wary and guilty. Jes gave them each a bowl and sent them to Sekma, who wrapped them with love and scoldings, and recruited them into the Telling by giving them little ways to contribute.

The soup was bubbling, and the people were each given their portion, and Sehkma began a gentle, engaging beat. Hash picked up the song with his strings, and Rashid pulled out a ukelele as the old song grew and the people began to sway.

Jesphyr felt the beat thrum in her blood, felt the memory grow and fill her brain, the way all the Tellings did. When Sehkma waved her into the circle to join the dance she went easily, circling and tapping, moving in time with her friends and the music as everything fused to the moments.

Sehkma's beautiful, low voice smoothed the spaces between the beat, and Jes harmonized gently, caught up in the dance.

Cross the never-ending black,

oceans wide of emptiness,

Ringing gently, lightly, soft,

The voices of Solem.

Great sailships, a thousand strong,

The children heard that ancient song.

Follow, follow, children come,

The children of Solem.

The people hummed and sang along while the Tellers, the Lorekeepers, lead them in remembering their origin. Sehkma sailed the memories across the stars, guided by those same stars from the home we knew to the home we needed around mighty Solem, and Jes danced along, expressing the joy of Great Solem, to no longer be lonely in the black. She twisted and flowed the joy of the Children, finding a warm and mighty star to revolve around.

The rain clouds had skittered away, along with the daylight, and the stars glittered between the branches, twinkling down on their assembly. The gentle rays could hardly compete with the lanterns and the fire, but Jes felt them anyway, and she could swear they sang. She twirled and danced, smiling gently to herself, humming a soft harmony to the sounds around her.

Help me!

Jesphyr stumbled and opened her eyes, surprised by the voice. The song had come to an end, and the people were all clapping. Sehkma was hugging her tightly, and everyone looked happy and at peace. Not in need of help. But she'd heard it.

“Beautiful!” Sehkma kissed Jes on the cheek, cradling her face in her hands. “See? You were meant for the singing. Who could hear songs the way you can?”

Jes gave her a distracted answer, searching.

But the people were milling toward the door, offering farewells and smiles, and the voice, the presence, was gone.