Makalani

Always Here

A hand is on my shoulder laid

So gently and so firmly clasped,

That when it’s there I’m not afraid

Nor ever can I be dismayed

For such a strength and hope are stayed

Within that calming grasp.

A voice within my ear does breath

Its tone as low and sweet as dawn,

It comforts me whene’er I grieve

Melodiously it doth wreath

My thoughts and never does it leave

Me lost or all alone.

A peace within my soul has grown

From this small seed that faith did give,

In such a way that though its blown

And all the pow’rs of Hell are shown

Arrayed against it – yet ‘tis known

That such a peace will live.

A love has wrapped me all around,

And all within. So ever near

Is it that though my fears abound

And I am smitten to the ground

By my own sin – it will be found

That He is always here.

Never Alone

A fiery energy, trembling and benumbing, coursed in her veins. It was as if the whole winds of every arctic and pole were at that moment blowing in one fierce gale through her entire being. She was cold, but so benumbed by the tremors that she could not feel it. She was tired but the energy that caused her to stand there shaking like a wind-blown leaf allowed passage to no such understanding. Desperately she wished to break out of the trembling hold. To once again be master of herself and control what she might feel and do, but she could not. The agonizingly wearying and chilling waves continued to course through her very bones, hunching her frame and chattering her teeth. Slowly the cold hand of numbness wrapped itself around her heart and mind. She could not think now and could only feel as the misery of chill bade her. So that -

'Tears she shed yet knew not why

And wondered if 'twould be sweet to die.'

However, as she stood, blinking back miserable tears and striving desperately to control her breathing, a voice sounded out of the surrounding darkness.

“Aylindra?” it said, warm and gentle. She caught her breath and scrubbed at her tear-stained face and red eyes with grimy hands. He must not see her like this! She turned away from the voice and gave no answer even as her entire being screamed at her to turn back and call to him. Beg him to free her, to help her.

“Aylindra, are you there?” he spoke again and at the sound of his beloved voice she trembled. Shrinking back against the tree's trunk she stood, still as she could and held her breath, praying that he would pass by even as she begged God to let him help her. O, foolish and heart-striven child.

A tall, dark shadow strode into view and as he drew closer Aylindra could see his face illuminated in the yellow street light. How noble he looked, how strong and majestic, like a tower of guard or a beacon of safety. It took all her will to hold back from running to him. He stopped under the streetlight and looked around him, peering into the darkness on every side. One hand reached out to lay itself on the lamp-post, as if he were a sailor in a storm, clinging to the ship's mast and waiting for her to take his other out-reached hand.

“I know you are there, Aylindra,” he said, quietly, his warm voice rolling like a billow of peace through Aylindra's mind. For a brief moment she could think, could remember who she was and who he was. Could recall why she should go to him and realize how hurt he would be to not find her. But the moment came and passed like a half-dream upon the waking and Aylindra shrank further back against the tree. She bit her lip, willing him now with all her mind that she could think through, to pass by and leave her alone in her misery.

For what seemed like an eternity he stood there, tall and strong, beneath the lamp-light. At last, with a shake of his head and a small, sad sigh, he turned away and walked back the way he had come. As soon as he disappeared into the shadowy night Aylindra heaved a sigh of relief. The tremors still coursed through her, but after that stress of remaining unseen she was now too fatigued for them to trick her out of weariness. Slowly, she sank down against the tree-trunk and sat, knees drawn up to her chest and hood covering her head. Tears trickled out of her tightly shut eyes and stifled sobs shook her frame as she tried to remember his voice. To bring its calm back to her here. But he was not here and her mind too tripped and lost in a cold pain to bring any strong semblance into her mind's ear.

She remembered the way he had said her name and a small smile flickered across her features even as fresh tears streamed in hot cataracts from her eyes. Over and over she replayed the way he had said it. His tone and inflection, the accent of his voice and the gentle warmth therein. Slowly, very slowly, the tremors subsided and with a shaky sigh of relief she slumped back against the tree. Her mind was still numb, but something in the remembering had brought back and aura of his presence. She could almost feel him sitting beside her.

“Aylindra.”

A little half-shriek of surprise and her eyes flew open. She started and would have stood but gentle hands took her by the upper-arms and held her still.

“Aylindra, shhh, it's alright. You don't have to hide from me.” he said but she would not look up to meet his gaze. She knew then that she would lose all will to resist him, to make him leave her alone.

“No, no Sylvas,” she said, shaking her head as the tremors returned, “Leave me alone. I don't need your help. Please, please just leave me alone.” and a sob shook her.

He did not leave but there was silence. A short sigh and he lowered himself to sit cross-legged before her. He did not release her arms. The breath of his sigh blew down, warm and sweet, into Aylindra's face. Shakily she inhaled it, relishing the scent of his breath.

“Aylindra,” he said her name again and she flinched as if from a blow, “Let me help you. Please? Aylindra, tell me what's wrong.”

Again she shook her head and bit her lip to keep silent. His hands trailed down her arms and slid over her hands. Taking both of her trembling hands into one of his own Sylvas held them, as carefully as if he thought a mere touch might break them. With his free hand he lifted her chin. At his touch the tremors subsided even further and clouds of numbness began clearing in Aylindra's mind. Perhaps he could help her?

He spoke again, gazing searchingly into her blood-shot eyes, “Aylindra, what's wrong? Please tell me.”

“I-” she began and a catch in her voice stopped her short. He nodded as if he already understood. The confidence and compassion in his eyes gave Aylindra courage.

“I'm just s-so lonely. I-” again the catch and she coughed before continuing, “I don't know. I-I guess I'm just scared. Everything is so new and strange. I don't know what to do or where to go or who to trust.” and a miserable sob shook her shoulders, sending fresh tears to pour out of her eyes, “I don't know.” she finished in a low whisper, shaking her head and crying.

Sylvas nodded again, as if the whole thing made perfect sense and shifting his position, took her in his arms. Such weariness of body and spirit encompassed her that Aylindra had not longer any will to resist. She leant into his embrace, burying her tear-streaked face in his chest as if she could hide there from everything, from everyone, from the whole world.

“I know, I know it's hard,” he murmured, rubbing her back and rocking, “New places and people. The strange things they do and say. How everyone seems to know what they're doing and think you should know at the same time but you don't.”

She nodded, sobbing still, and pressed closer to him, trembling a little as he named the pains and fears she had been enduring.

“You feel like you're completely alone in the whole world. Like as if no one on earth can understand you anymore and you can't understand anybody.” he continued then bent his head down so that his mouth was close to her ear.

“Aylindra, that's what you feel like, and I understand because it's what I felt like at first too. You don't have to be afraid of it. I know it seems like an eternity, but everything will pass. Soon, you'll look back and wonder why you were ever scared in the first place. But while you're here,” and he hugged her closer, “Just remember this: you're not alone. You're never alone. I am here, I have been here and I will always be here for you. You can trust me. You're safe and everything is going to be alright.”

Aylindra nodded, this time tears of joy streaming from her eyes.

“OK,” she whispered and looked up into his face, “I'll remember.”

And she was rewarded in such a way as made her heart leap and confidence flame up again. He smiled and everything - past, present and far into the unforeseeable future - seemed bright and clear. She had a friend, that was all she needed.

“Come on,” he said, gesturing towards the nearby Student Lounge with his head, “I want you to meet some of my friends.”

For a split second she paused, uncertainly. Then, with an answering smile, she took his hand and he helped her stand.

“OK,” she said.

He threw his coat around her rain-drenched shoulders and wrapping one arm around her guided Aylindra out from under the tree, back onto the side-walk. A cool, gentle wind stirred the lamp-lit leaves as two figures walked down the sidewalk, stepping through a brightly-lit doorway and out of the night.

Northern Lights

There is this presence, which known once cannot again be forgotten. The very thought or whisper of light upon a cool midnight breeze. I feel it now, as beside the dying embers of the camp fire I lay. That tingling expectancy; it calls me in a language unspoken of by man, yet understood in the deepest recesses of our souls. "Come" it murmurs - so I come.

I rise, softly from my place, careful lest I wake my companions from their sleep, and steal quietly from the ember-lit clearing. Under the trees and away, to the North I walk as if I had tread this path many times, though it is being but new drawn in my mind. One step at a time I discover it as I am led on. The whispers in the air quicken me onward "Come" they call with wondering and bated breath. The awe of their thoughts fills me and my tread becomes silent upon the new fallen snow.

Forward, never slacking and always straight ahead I walk, beneath trees and across frozen streams, through paths of waning moonlight. The moon will be setting soon, its crescent scythe vanishing below the forest horizon. I know I must get where I am going - though where that is I know not yet - before the moon is set. Swiftly then, I thread my way through the never-ending forest, passing here the imprint of an elk's hoof in the snow and there the tell-tale signs of a bear's claws on the side of a tree. The night is cold and tho' my breath fogs thick upon the air I am not chilled. The call stirs warm within me; I may not tarry.

Suddenly and with a silence that seems to steal my breath the whispering call in my mind ceases. I halt find myself standing near the center of a clearing in these woods. Looking up I can see the stars, in all their splendor and brilliance, shining like ten thousand candles in the velvety blue curtain of the midnight sky. To the West the barest tip of the moon's crescent can be seen above the tree tops. It will not be long now. I seat myself on a snow-clad log and wait.

Perhaps I doze, I do not know, but one moment the sky is filled with naught but stars, and the very next I see a bar of light sway and spread above me. It is blue, with tinges of a fiery green, and it moves with the perfect, graceful cadence of a dancer, unrolling itself like a scroll made of the very essence of magic and wonder. Beside it there appears another pillar of light, but this one purple with hues of pink on her crown. They move, weaving in and out of one another and fading as the other brightens only to fade again. And their sides ripple as if they were the waters of a great fall which the wind blew to make dance. Or rather the lights – now three! - are the cords of rainbow harps played by invisible hands. A melody of lights whispers across the sky above me, in more colors and hues than I can comprehend. Of yellow and purple, vivid green and bright, ocean-like blue. They are numberless now, the sable bars of liquid glory - of shining song.

Their innumerable hues blend in a fiery rainbow which stretches across the sky. They move like marching columns of an army, an army of light. The peaks of the tallest mountains in the distance reflect the lights splendor back at them like the cry of a rising trumpet. They call, back and forth to each other, their voices silent yet like shouts of angels singing "Hallelujah!" into the still air above the sleeping forest. I gaze at them, into them, watching with wonder and bated breath as they dance and sing, play and ripple across the starry heavens. Then, at last, they slowly begin to fade, one by one winking out like pillars of candlelight, until their remains but the first, waiting to be last. He moves: back and forth he dances across the sky as if searching for his missing fellows. Then, with the first rays of dawn on the Eastern mountain-tops he fades from view and the stars are all that remain in the waking heavens.

After a time spent in wondering and deep, celestial thoughts, I rise from my place and turning slowly, begin my walk back to the place from whence I came. Scarce do I go three paces into the forest when I espy, out of the corner of my eye, a figure in the shadows. I halt, suddenly, and turn to face the man. He steps from the shadows and I recognize his face as one of my fellow campers whom I thought I had left sleeping in the clearing back there. Neither of us speaks for a little while until, at last, he murmurs in a low, far away voice,

"You saw them too?"

I pause and then with a small, wonder-filled smile I nod my head. He too smiles and as we turn to walk back to the place from whence we have come no more words are exchanged. It is enough to look at each other's faces and into each other's eyes. We know what we have seen this night, and we will remember it, for many years to come.

A Waking Flame For my forever friend, Ash

A shaft of rippling light there lies And falling bright from fire-lit skies Pierces cold and weary eyes It lifts, like waking flame.

A rose like burnished gold there grows With petals white like fallen snows And softly, sweetest scent there blows From it, like waking flame.

A drop of liquid fire there forms And trembling bright through icy storms It lasts and does not freeze, but forms A tear, like waking flame.

A cup of molded ash there stands All polished white with twisting bands Of gold wrapped ‘round – and in it lands The drop, like waking flame.

A moment soft there passes here And as we watch the fallen tear A pang like hope and joy and fear Strikes us, like waking flame.

A glimmer grows from shadows deep As from the depths of dark dost leap A ringing call – it brings from sleep The world, like waking flame.

A leaf of waving fire is spread From deepest dark. Enamoréd Our hearts do leap, which once were dead To soar, like waking flame.

A waking whisper from the flame Erects itself and forms a frame Of fire and ash – we hear its name Called out from waking flame.

A robe of fire is wreathing round The figure. Now she steps to ground And with a voice like thunder-sound She says: “Ash is my name.”

Unsung Symphony
Orchestral notes and chords fly echoing

To a vaulted roof that resounds their notes;

Each beat and measure swiftly following

The ones before. The music floats

Upward in ascending stairs of melody

All strings, brass, winds combine in harmony

The organ roars and trumpets ring

The flutes do trill and strings – they sing!

So lost am I within the song

At first I do not know what's wrong.

There's something amiss within the tune

And though I listen when suspecting wrong

I cannot place the lacking loon

That so deviously has left the song.

Then with another trill of flutes and strings

I faintly detect the missing things.

With a thunder-clap of cymbals crashing

And a tinkling scale of harpsichord flashing,

I hear the loss as clear as day -

The trumpets corps! They've fallen away.

Still the symphony echoes about

The vaulted hall and organ's voice

With rolling notes does aid the shout

Of strings still scaling in perfect noise.

But the trill, the trill! I cannot hear

It anymore. Was it not there?

The harpsichord yet tinkles along

The percussion ranks still boosts the song.

What then is missing? The lighter tone

Of wood-winds whispering is gone.

Anxious and enraptured I fall into

The song as it bears my thoughts afar

Until, with a start, I hearken to

And hear but silence where the percussions were!

Strings, organ and harpsichord

Continue playing in strong accord.

Then with a last and bright fanfare

As if to say “Beware! Beware!”

The harpsichord fades from its place:

Strings and organ alone in the race.

Bass, viola, violins and cello

Raise a vast melody and harmonize

With the sweeping organ's rising staccato

Vying even as they recognize

Each other's place within the music.

I wonder “Which one next will lose it?”

And am answered a moment later

As with a soft and gentle patter

The viola slide and cease to sing

At once the bass is not a thing.

Violins and cello race with the organ

Panting, rushing to reach the end.

Each one trying a little more than

His counterparts – no more pretend.

First one then three cello falls silent

Two, three, four violins fade away

And with their loss rises excitement

As still in might the organ does play.

Plays and runs, rolls and tolls

The cello are gone! Yet one string pulls

Ahead, one last lone violin

In the organ's raging storm does sing.

Bright and clear the single string's notes

Cut through the tempest to sing a new theme

Which rising in sweet harmony floats

And rides the organ's waves like a dream.

Slowly the song loses its rush

And with an echoing, profound hush

And single deep chord the organ's voice dies

Only at this moment we realize

That this song was never made

To be unfolded or to be played.

No, as the violin's last high note is rung

We see, at last – this song was unsung.