Sanctuary

When darkness fell, the young woman sensed a change on the breeze and a scent of floral fragrance wafted from somewhere beyond the trees. She had walked further today than she had ever done, and her feet throbbed. She wanted to rest but knew she could not yet stop. She had to be obscured by shadow before she dared to allow herself a moment of calm. She heard a thousand footsteps pound from where she had been before. The thunder of those from whom she fled beat upon the ground. Drums of fate, the beat of a dozen accusers echoed through the valley, her heart reflected the hurt that could only be caused by those she loved. A dozen accusers, but the word of only one was the torture that rent her heart, that tore her apart her soul. Should a thousand years pass before she heard that sound once more, she would not forget…could not forget…the descent of hope when her lover had declared her culpable.

Thoughts reverberated through her head as she ran now, for the edge of the forest loomed just ahead. An umbra of safety soon reached, she ducked beneath the mass of green and found there a small glen. She stood a moment to assess her newfound sanctuary and found comfort beneath the low sunset. Dappled leaves cast darker shadows upon the forest floor, covered by mosses. Small flowers and long leafy plants gave the velvet ground a darkness that enhanced the mystery of what lay below the lush cover. A hush fell upon her ears, the horror of her memory soothed for a moment. The songs of small, feathered creatures rose to the heavens, pushed memory of betrayal deep. She sunk to the ground, old leaves crumbled beneath as she sought a place to lay her exhausted body, safe from those whose trust had become wanton, wasteful, broken.

Curled beneath a wave of slender cedar branches, she lay her cheek upon her folded hands. Wet tears slowly flowed from sun-worn eyes of golden brown. Her breast heaved as sorrow overflowed for hours. Before the moon rose among the stars, the sobs slowed to a steady breath and sleep overcame the woman’s terror. Perhaps she dreamed of pleasant days of laughter, for any observer would have seen the play of her mouth turned up at the corner. Much later as the moon sunk lower, forest creatures crept slowly out of dens to watch the human female as she turned over and rested her now-dry face upon the softness of her sleeve. She would sleep the deep sleep of the pure and holy; no darkness lay at the center of her soul.

The sun rose to the symphony of doves, and the gentle touch of a sweet breeze upon the woman’s face awakened her. She sat up and stretched as though no thought of yesterday’s close escape crossed the threshold of her memory. She stood and reached hands to the sky, then bent to touch her toes, placed her palms upon the forest floor, and breathed the loamy fragrance of the ground to the count of ten. Stretched up once more, hands open to the sky. Only when she repeated these movements three full cycles would she move on.

Her stomach growled and she looked about. A berry here, a nutmeat there. A handful of grasses known to please the belly and the palate, and she was sated. Away to the north, she heard the bubbly song of a creek that ran through the trees. She stood a moment to assess the place of her safe sleep, then nodded goodbye to her unseen protectors, those creatures who sat and watched her through the dark. She had slept unawares, yet there was a knowledge that could not be taught at her center. She had known they observed, though only deep, unspeakable. She turned then to the north, where water bubbled over boulders and pebbles danced beneath the rush of elemental power.

She crested a mound of verdant ground, passed beneath the low-hung branches of an old oak decorated by old men’s beards, and gazed at the water. Parched, she slowly made her way to the shore, where grasses danced as the waters tumbled toward the far-away sea. She knelt and cupped her hands to catch the water, drank small pools from palms that lost more than they held, but she had enough. Hydrated, she sat upon a flattened rock on the rugged shore. She watched a salmon struggle upward, saw a trout jump at a bug just above the water’s surface, noted a small rodent scramble along the edge of the shore then dart for a burrow tucked beneath an overhang next to a moss-covered rock.

Peacefully, the woman sat for an hour or more, a song upon her tongue that told a tale of love and beauty. The story she wove was the tale of a goddess eternal, who called the earth awake at dawn and sang the world to sleep at sunset. As she sang, the woman’s face shone golden. She reached out to pluck feverfew blossoms for tea and stood to gather honeysuckle from a nearby bush to sweeten the warm brew. Clearly, she no longer bore the memory of the day before, nor the terror her eyes reflected as she ran for the safety of the forest.

“Home,” she sang, the sound of bells tuned perfectly. She glanced down at the dress she had donned the day before. Velvet and gossamer draped her body and handmade lace played about her ankles. A dove flew by and landed on an oak branch.

“Home,” she repeated, the sound so pleasant the forest seemed to stop and lend an ear. She slowly dropped the straps of her gown, unwrapped the cloth that hung over her legs, and let them fall to the ground.

Naked, the young woman reached hands to the sky and splayed them open, gathered energy and power from the moon and the sun, the stars and the planets. She lowered her hands palms open, faced up, then turned them toward the ground and released. Energy to the earth, power to the trees, the plants, the creatures large and small. The dove left the branch and landed soft upon her shoulder. She stepped, barefoot and naked, to the edge of the waters, then touched a toe to the surface.

“Home!” She sang once more, loudly and powerfully. The forest exploded. Sounds of pure beauty resonated throughout the woods. Songs awakened tree to tree, and thoughts of yesterday’s yesterdays cascaded throughout the land. She breathed deep and stepped beneath the water. The stream flowed over her feet as she stood, became the water, and slowly sat, then lay down. Her long, loose tresses became the water. The stream sang the songs she had sung.

~~~

At the outer edge of the forest, a group of men gathered, angry. Teary-eyed women stood back and begged them return home. The women watched the men wave bow and sword as they screamed angry words at the woman who had run for the shadows. Where had she gone? How had she gone? What had she done? The men turned to the man who had accused her of spell-craft.

He had loved her, accused her, and rejected her, for at sun-up one day, had she not spoken words he could not understand? Now suddenly he had no memory of those words, nor of the charges he had declared. Fear and anger left the heart that had lately held so much hatred. He was sure now he could hear bells; they played a song that could heal a broken heart. The other men wandered, unsure why they were gathered at the edge of the woods.

When the women suddenly heard no sound from the men, they turned to see them wander one way, then another. Soon, the sound of bells fell upon them, and fear left them. They began to hug one another, and the sound of laughter burst out across the land. The women began to walk toward the men, who met them halfway. Together they returned home, the chase to the edge of the forest soon forgotten.

~~~

Come now and rest on a rock at the edge of a stream near the center of a verdant forest. Lean your ear to the waters. Hear the song? Hear her call to the creatures and the plants? Hear her call your name? There she stays, for when once she left, she was nearly lost. Had she been lost, where would we be?

Would we be?

(c) Suzy Jacobson Cherry, 2024