Friday 1 June 2012
He came to dwell in the lighthouse the year of the Bracken
Frost. The great light no longer shone,
had not blinked its welcome wink for many seasons. Not since the men found
safer routes in the sky and over the land.
The keeper’s dwelling, lonesome for the play and laughter of children,
sagged with sorrow; its white-washed walls wept lichen tears, and the winds
howled anguish through the eaves and skittered memories around the gravestones,
where no one came to lay flowers of shells anymore.
Maddox the Hermit told what he knew of this man. We listened closely for what the Hermit does
not know is smaller than a periwinkle pearl and long has he kept our secret,
and long have we filled his nets and shared his solitude, although we do not
understand why he chooses to live apart from his own kind. They say he was responsible for the loss of
many of his kind, yet the waves say ‘Not so’ and I, at least, think such a
story is the folly of gossipmongers; the truth is far less….
.......cinematic.
Now and then, I take human form and sit in the dark rooms to
watch pictures that move.
Now they talk.
I am very fond of this human amusement as sometimes one of
our stories is told back through human mind and eyes and it is on those
occasions that I laugh until I leak, for they get our stories so wrong..... have
gotten them so wrong for so long, that my kind have no more tears. Long long ago, before even my form took
shape, the worlds had broken apart: the Elementals
split asunder and humans cloaked themselves in fur, cloth, leather and metal. Not waiting for natural cycles to give them
such coverings organically; but taking and then taking more. Now that so much has been taken, for so long
and so... devotedly.......
......... now humans try to hold back the tide.
Saying which species is endangered and which is not. We
laugh until we leak for humans are more endangered than any other species at
this time. We shall survive; we always have. Our secrets are safe.
(C) Grace Darling
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