The Flight
As I parted from the ground, my lens glided up with the redwoods. The brown and wrinkled, tremendous trunks seemed to never end, but I could now see its branches without craning my neck. “Is this how the sparrows see it!”, I wondered. The branches — some clothed green while others bereft of them — were bathed in golden sun, which shone like a glimmering blade. I evaded his sharp glance, and flew higher and higher. My face windswept; cheeks wet with the water forced out from my eye by the unfamiliar wind; and with my hair dancing before my eyes, I flew farther and farther.
I saw the redwoods from above — up so close — I had not yet touched the sky, but my flight levelled me with the crown of the giants. The last time I had seen those trees from above, was when they looked no bigger than the grass — from an airplane, but today, it was different. Today, I was riding with the sailor of the sky. He was enormous and exceedingly handsome. His body was colored caribbean-blue, and his velvety plumage of exquisite deeper hue of yellow, which I thought he stole from the Sun.
He was a frequent visitor on my routine runs — never had he assumed that size before; never had I imagined him this strong. His twitter and merry chirps had often colored my mornings, and I would forget him soon after until the next morning. But, he remembered — he visited me every day, perhaps, even on the days I deemed too cold, or too warm to meet with him. But today was different. Today the inclement weather warnings didn’t stop me from leaving behind the warmth of a cup of tea and the crackling fire in the hearth. I wanted to feel the air breathing the icy breaths; I wanted to see the sun hiding behind the cloaked grey sky; I wanted to be between the twisted and tall trees; I wanted to hear the tale of the ground frozen under the treacherous ice.
But little did I know that today, the ice was unforgiving. It would not crackle under my hoofs, which slipped but withstood, until the ice decided otherwise — and it gave way; I lost my balance; I slipped; I fell; I hit the perfidious sheet — then, it cracked. And I was borne away.
Now while gliding upwards through the relentless ephemeral clouds, the unfamiliar territory breathed foreboding. I looked down upon the immortal trees which once of formidable size, were no taller than the undancing grass. The wind that brushed my hair seemed not to touch their head — there they stood, rooted firmly to the ground, while I tore through the warm rays-of-heaven.
“What does the heaven look like!”, I had often wondered — with sole wonderment, never backed by curiosity of discovery.
But today was different. I was on the brink of exploring the potential heaven — the familiar earth and air were receding. I looked up — the orifice emanating rays-of-heaven, grew large, and larger, and then some more, until its circumference eluded me; until, it absorbed me.
A calm prevailed in whatever that territory was called. My carrier gently placed me on the silver-stream — which flowed unswerved. Its motion had no bearing on my momentum — I stood still, but felt cold, from within. It was surreal. Now, I wanted to go back to where the unfaithful ice had cracked under my feet; to where the redwoods were formidable still; to where the flowing water would force me to swim or sink; to where the fire crackled in the hearth; to my home, I yearned to go.
“He must be worried waiting for me”, I thought.
My heart pounded against my chest, a chill ran up my spine, and once again, my feet gave in, and with a mute thud I fell on the stream, as I looked upon myself — lying down — but face up — but in my home — but without the fire crackling. He was there too. My mom and dad too. Their sobs were deafening — they wept and wailed uncontrollably. I felt the ache — I was still capable of that.
Looking at me, he stood still. His face death-like, and eyes unmoving as he saw the color draining away from my face. I was growing stiff — I had to be carried away — once more. He had to arrange for it. He did. A tear escaped his eyes. He picked up my mom. He comforted my dad.
“Thank you for being strong.”, I said.
“I am not.”, I heard.
Every night since, I have seen him not-strong.
Every night since, I have seen him not-living.
Every night since, I want to tell him, “It’s alright. I’m ok.”
Every night since, my heart has wept with his.
Every night since, I have seen his pillow wet;
But Every night since, my eyes have stopped manufacturing the mortal tears.