” I am his reflection and I miss him so very much. He misses me. ” I remind myself.
The ache never settles as I watch the sun sit so low on the horizon as it leaves the land to the stillness of the dark.
That darkness is what I now see and feel — Darkness that is only illuminated by the moon shining through the naked branches of the trees and it’s reflection on an ice-covered lake.
” It hurts to miss him, only him, ” I say to myself and to the ice that is treacherously thin and dusted with the most recent of snows and footprints I’ve left when I crossed this lake at my own peril.
As I stand and turn away, I think of how the ice did not bend under my weight and how it only gave way under the weight of soldiers who pursued and thought of me as easy prey –soldiers whom now lie beneath the surface and are now, food for the fish.
I return to my familiar clearing, half-remembered, with only the predictions of the world, and with the needs of everyday life that have kept me in at curfew — not daring to bribe the gate keepers with a flash of my brilliant eyes as I once did.