~“The Earth blushed, as she felt the tears on her Sun-kissed face.”– Slavic tales from Chukwu~
Somewhere Out There,
June, the 24th
Akel Dama lay in exhaustion upon the mountain of her dwelling, her weariness infected those whom she hosted as her citizens.
The fog was as thick as the grief the villagers carried upon their souls. The fog hindered the rays of the morning moon from bathing the skin of the villagers at least with the idea of hope.
The wind that blew against the wooden cabins was dry and sorrowful. Every time it embraced any flesh, it reminded them of the endless dread of Akel Dama.
An endless dread they were tied to.
Their desolate souls harkened to the songs the pied piper would blow into their gloomy ears and tired hearts.
His songs seemed like a legend to the villagers. These songs carried a message of salvation that had been singing into their hearing for so long that their hearts chose to have faith in despair and death.
The field of Akel Dama knew not what it was to be baptized by the tears of the clouds, or maybe it was so because she was denied the privilege to even see what a cloud looked like, for all she knew was blood and even though life lies in the blood it wasn’t sufficient to give life to their thirsty hearts.
Akel Dama; Field of blood.
The fields hosted death; dead plants, rotten flesh of animals, and the walking dead. The soil lost its life and brilliance, its darkness was fertile, and it was dark because of the blood she had drank.
Darkness acquainted himself with Akel Dama so much that his lies were believed to be true. The truth he sold to the souls of men was that there was no escape from Akel Dama; that anyone who dared to leave would meet their destruction, but what doom could be worse than what they were in?
But even if we dared to leave Akel Dama we weren’t given the gift of illumination to thread through the thick darkness that covered the land. A darkness so thick we lost sight of who we were and are.
Death wasn’t possible here only pain, dread, hopelessness and obscurity took the place of being put six feet into the earth to rest.
We sought after the death that gave rest but just like the water we once had, he was north and far away from our reach.
Lying in the cold heart Akel Dama, I remembered my cabin, and I wished I had an idea of what she still looked like.
But from hindsight, I could remember the scent the red oil paint carried, how if you let it stay on your hand for a while it grew hard to wash out. And the windows, clear and transparent as the innocence of a newly born child.
I could even remember what my rug smelt like. It smelt like a Yeti’s fur with drops of honey heated over a fireplace.
I lost it all; life before and joy after. Life before Akel Dama was pure and free, nothing was a stranger to me, for I had in my sight and my surroundings everything needed to sustain me. But after my love and life were taken my joy then followed. I lost my relish for food while it lasted, and I lost my senses for as long as Akel Dama lingered.
Maybe it was for the curse this land carried, for the blood of the son of perdition she had to taste and wail for. Maybe if Akel Dama could fathom strength she would groan and cry to her lord for salvation, but even she had no word to utter to the hearing of her Lord.
But I missed it; the beauty of hearing the tears of the clouds kiss the ground giving her life and washing whatever impurity the atmosphere hauled. I missed those moments when I had enough water to drink that I even wasted it forgetting that it was but a gift not to be taken for granted.
Maybe if my mouth could garner enough saliva I would be able to swallow the pain and bitterness my heart held, but I couldn’t; for my pain and bitterness remained with and in my lips to rub on whoever crossed my path in this dying land.
The sound of the village bell rang; it rang so loud that even the sound of silence was awakened by its call.
It was time for us to give attention to the songs of the pied piper, at least even though we saw his words as untrue, it was better to hear of a false hope than to hallow in the obscurity our souls already gave birth to.
And just like sheep without shepherds we matched into what I will presume to be the town hall. Several times I would bump into others but since there was no point to our existence we never gave heed to one another.
We waited for the sounds of the bagpipe to inform us that the pied piper was among us, but time grew old as we waited.
I began to feel the weight of time growing old, in a place where there was no clock to tell what hour it was.
“The pied piper has left us and is no more.” One amongst the multitude of obscurity muttered.
Murmurs travelled through the lips of every soul that stood there in anticipation of the rhythm his bagpipe carried.
Some said he was salvaged from Akel Dama as from the words of the song he sang to our hearing; some said he was drunk with the wine of his sorrows and refused to play the pipe no more. As I listened to their words my cold heart grew colder for the pied piper was my only friend in a town that didn’t permit friendship. Even though I didn’t believe his songs they welcomed me into a reality I was trying to let sink into my dry heart.
Amidst the murmurs and the thick darkness I turned to lead myself home to soak in despair, then I saw something uncanny to my sight. I beheld light having a figure and walking towards me.
As this figure marched towards me I could see what our streets looked like, I could see the barrows and buckets that were forsaken by the road.
This figure drew closer to me, my sight stayed closed for a moment for it didn’t understand this new reality, but even my hopeless heart needed to see this light.
I struggled to open my eyes, it took a while before even my first eye opened up and I gazed upon him.
He was what we called a man, but I had never seen his likeness here and even before Akel Dama. He was the embodiment of the sounds the pied piper sang to our hearing, but beholding him was far better than what I heard through the bagpipe.
He held up a jug of water in his left hand and a basket of bread in his right hand, and offered both of them to me.
I knew what it was he was offering me, it was life he was carrying around to offer me for free. But I had no money nor possession in my bearing to offer him in place of this life he offered me.
“I have nothing to pay you with for this great gift you offered me, Lord.” I cried to his hearing.
And for the first time in a long time, I saw him smile. His smile was so glorious and breathtaking, hidden in his smile was the gift of the joy I sought after in this desolate land.
“Take and drink for this life is free but it will cost you.” His words were kind and stern, they were like oil running from my head into my body down to my feet.
Still uncertain I wavered waiting for him to pass me by and select another soul who would believe his words immediately, but he waited patiently for me still with a smile on his glorious face.
With my shaky hands, I first grabbed the water and held it close to my lips relishing the smell that water did not carry. I slowly swallowed the water greedily while trying to save some for the next day.
“Drink, Child. I have more.” He said to me.
I adjusted and drank everything installed in the jar. My being was rejuvenated, my despair was washed away from my heart, and just like this glorious king I wore a smile upon my face that was, as I dare to say, life-giving.
I rushed for the bread and ravaged it, and as I ate, it was as though I was dining with eternal life. Every chew reminded me of glory and peace I had never known.
I was alive and I could see my hunger and thirst were fulfilled by this man who is light.
And just like him, I had the ability to host life and light. My eyes were open to the wells and springs of water the darkness hid from us. My gaze gave conformity to everything that is, and I remembered a line from the Pied Piper’s song,
“Someday, the rain will come.”
I looked up and the fog gave way for a ray of sunlight to shine upon Akel Dama.
Salvation found Akel Dama, after all. She finally saw the tears of the clouds and she let them kiss her.
The intentionality behind certain sentences are piercing. This is good Thomas.
This is incredible my brother! May our Lord bless you!