"My loved ones, rest in your world of stone. Around you flows the underground stream.
How bright in the darkness the brooding light. How gentle the colors of the rain."
— Joy Kogawa; Obasan, pg. 246
How bright in the darkness the brooding light. How gentle the colors of the rain."
— Joy Kogawa; Obasan, pg. 246
I. A Conversation
What was remarkable about this day was that it was exceptionally ordinary. Flocks of birds flittered jovially from bush to bush, pecking eagerly at the ripe blackberries gingerly dangling from their stems. A pair of young squirrels noisily bolted under the crisp quilt of fallen autumnal leaves. Like a branch caught between rocks in a brook, there sat an esk. She was not much smaller than you are—maybe about the same size, if not a little frailer. Unmoving. Observing. Poised underneath the early morning sun, and barely a transparent shimmer of light. Silent in the face of tiny bursts of forest chaos, she remained lost in her own thoughts. Looking at but not seeing the pond at her feet, the esk unintentionally exuded the same quiet melancholic energy as on her day of transformation. The same way how people weep without shedding any tears. The subtle butterfly wing-beats of sadness drew the attention of a visitor—one of her most trusted companions, and in fact, her creator.
The other gently wove out of the underbrush, pausing and sighing at the familiar sight of her friend's back, slumped, wavering in and out of solidity in tune with the soft white reflections bobbing up and down in the undulating water. She padded up to her friend, laying down along the bank just to her right and stretched noisily. No response. She rolled her eyes and brought a paw down into the water, rupturing her friend's meditative state by splashing cold water onto her silvery fur. They both watched as the droplets raking down her chest streaked the silvery-grey color back into her form, little by little dragging the esk into corporeality.
"Well, hello to you too," deadpanned the first, shaking her slightly damp fur, making sure to splash some onto her friend.
"Hey! What was I supposed to do, with you moping around like that? You didn't see me so what other choice did I have?" Even in its fiery indignance, the sweet melody of her voice betrayed playful teasing. Even though she was many, many years older than her friend, she never seemed to lose that childlike-spirit that ignited her lilac core.
"I am not...moping," the silver esk trailed off, choosing to lay adjacent to her trusted companion. She fought the urge to curl into herself completely, instead wrapping her long tail around her body protectively. "...just thinking." As she shifted, the few crystals dotting her shoulders glistened and threw prismatic fractals of light onto the ground between them.
"'bout what?" questioned the other esk, pawing absentmindedly at the slivers of light. She tried to keep her tone light and casual, but she hoped the other would not notice the slight waver in her voice.
"About..." she looked skywards, struggling to pin down her feelings in words. The breeze overhead tugged a fiery orange leaf free from its stem. "Leaving. ...I feel anxious, restless...unfulfilled...and constantly seeking solitude. I would just...depart from this place, but I long to stay. It is a strange mixture of feelings. Like the need to phase into the wind and yet remain solid."
The other stared attentively back, brow creased in concern. "Can I ask you a question?" She hardly waited for her friend to cast her drooped gaze before continuing. "Do you...regret it? That I helped you all those years ago?"
Sounds of daintily crinkling leaves instantly caught their attention—across the brook a tawny doe and her ethereally white fawn cautiously approached the other side of the water. The mother carefully nosed her child to drink, and the frail albino deer gingerly limped towards where the water licked at the muddy bank. If the esk had lungs, their breath would have been stilled. The smoky esk dipped her front paw into the water and swirled it once, twice, three times, her eyes squinting in concentration. Both esk watched as the pair of deer drank heartily, and suddenly invigorated, pranced merrily back into the overgrown brush of the woodlands.
The younger esk held a fond twinkle in her eyes as she watched them depart. "No."
"Huh?" Asked the other, this time the one snapped out of mesmerized wonder.
"I don't regret asking you to...transform me. I'm glad I can put some good into this world." She nosed towards where the deer had drunk. "But can I ask you a question?"
And so they discussed about fear and finality, purpose and longing, coal and diamond. The darkened sky grew illuminated with a splattering of stars, stitched together by ancient peoples of forgotten times. The stories of another age were their only listeners, the new moon their only witness. Eventually their discussion came to an end. The gift would be given again, connecting them again in the great chain of esk to esk to esk—a silken spider web heavy with dew, daintily attached to leaves swaying in the breeze. With dew collecting at her eyes, she reached out with her gaze and hummed a final goodbye. Warmth and gratitude flowed between their irises, frantically pouring every last unspoken word into the space between them. With the stillness and silence of breath, it had begun and was over. A crystalline contract grew upon her heart, embracing and encasing the original artifact like a shell on a snail. She would fulfill her companion's last instructions like a violin playing a fugue. With measured precision, grace, and gentle mourning, she would carve out a place of healing stillness in a world of turbulent grief. To die is to be silent; to join the earth is only stillness. We continue telling and sharing in the chests of others, and exist forever in the whispers of memories and spider’s silk in the wind.
The other gently wove out of the underbrush, pausing and sighing at the familiar sight of her friend's back, slumped, wavering in and out of solidity in tune with the soft white reflections bobbing up and down in the undulating water. She padded up to her friend, laying down along the bank just to her right and stretched noisily. No response. She rolled her eyes and brought a paw down into the water, rupturing her friend's meditative state by splashing cold water onto her silvery fur. They both watched as the droplets raking down her chest streaked the silvery-grey color back into her form, little by little dragging the esk into corporeality.
"Well, hello to you too," deadpanned the first, shaking her slightly damp fur, making sure to splash some onto her friend.
"Hey! What was I supposed to do, with you moping around like that? You didn't see me so what other choice did I have?" Even in its fiery indignance, the sweet melody of her voice betrayed playful teasing. Even though she was many, many years older than her friend, she never seemed to lose that childlike-spirit that ignited her lilac core.
"I am not...moping," the silver esk trailed off, choosing to lay adjacent to her trusted companion. She fought the urge to curl into herself completely, instead wrapping her long tail around her body protectively. "...just thinking." As she shifted, the few crystals dotting her shoulders glistened and threw prismatic fractals of light onto the ground between them.
"'bout what?" questioned the other esk, pawing absentmindedly at the slivers of light. She tried to keep her tone light and casual, but she hoped the other would not notice the slight waver in her voice.
"About..." she looked skywards, struggling to pin down her feelings in words. The breeze overhead tugged a fiery orange leaf free from its stem. "Leaving. ...I feel anxious, restless...unfulfilled...and constantly seeking solitude. I would just...depart from this place, but I long to stay. It is a strange mixture of feelings. Like the need to phase into the wind and yet remain solid."
The other stared attentively back, brow creased in concern. "Can I ask you a question?" She hardly waited for her friend to cast her drooped gaze before continuing. "Do you...regret it? That I helped you all those years ago?"
Sounds of daintily crinkling leaves instantly caught their attention—across the brook a tawny doe and her ethereally white fawn cautiously approached the other side of the water. The mother carefully nosed her child to drink, and the frail albino deer gingerly limped towards where the water licked at the muddy bank. If the esk had lungs, their breath would have been stilled. The smoky esk dipped her front paw into the water and swirled it once, twice, three times, her eyes squinting in concentration. Both esk watched as the pair of deer drank heartily, and suddenly invigorated, pranced merrily back into the overgrown brush of the woodlands.
The younger esk held a fond twinkle in her eyes as she watched them depart. "No."
"Huh?" Asked the other, this time the one snapped out of mesmerized wonder.
"I don't regret asking you to...transform me. I'm glad I can put some good into this world." She nosed towards where the deer had drunk. "But can I ask you a question?"
And so they discussed about fear and finality, purpose and longing, coal and diamond. The darkened sky grew illuminated with a splattering of stars, stitched together by ancient peoples of forgotten times. The stories of another age were their only listeners, the new moon their only witness. Eventually their discussion came to an end. The gift would be given again, connecting them again in the great chain of esk to esk to esk—a silken spider web heavy with dew, daintily attached to leaves swaying in the breeze. With dew collecting at her eyes, she reached out with her gaze and hummed a final goodbye. Warmth and gratitude flowed between their irises, frantically pouring every last unspoken word into the space between them. With the stillness and silence of breath, it had begun and was over. A crystalline contract grew upon her heart, embracing and encasing the original artifact like a shell on a snail. She would fulfill her companion's last instructions like a violin playing a fugue. With measured precision, grace, and gentle mourning, she would carve out a place of healing stillness in a world of turbulent grief. To die is to be silent; to join the earth is only stillness. We continue telling and sharing in the chests of others, and exist forever in the whispers of memories and spider’s silk in the wind.