“Do you see Her?” my sister asked.
She stood on her tiptoes in the corner of the basement, pointing a finger upwards. She beamed from ear to ear, her blonde hair as bright as a heated bulb. I tilted my head to the dark ceiling. There was a vent, a beam of dim light, a cobweb.
“That’s Her,” my sister declared, voice booming and exultant. “You see the light? Embracing the window? She’s returned, how blessed we are!”
“Hello,” she said to the light. “How are you?” she paused, and her eyes filled with water. “I understand, I am tired too. But mostly I am content, for you are my dearest kindred friend.”
As I was a child, I saw nothing strange or abnormal about my sister speaking to the light. There was light in our world; a golden woman spent her days gazing down upon us with love. My skin was very warm, and I wondered if this meant the light had marked me, for my whole body was hot, and this was very strange because the basement did not allow for much light to enter, and the walls also were quite thin. I touched my cheeks, my ears, my lips, and it felt like I was on fire. This made me imagine that the sun was kissing me and the thought made me giggle. How can the sun kiss? And why would the sun kiss me?
“Hi. What’s up?” I said, as means of greeting the light. The pun struck me a moment later, and my hands rose to cover my mouth and smother the laugh ascending in my throat.
The light did not respond, and perhaps I am not remembering this quite right, my reflections clouded by self-loathing, but it felt as if, in vexation, she moved away from me ever so slightly, shining fiercer onto my sister’s face.
“That is not how you introduce yourself to Her. How could you be so…” my sister’s voice dwindled, and we stood together in charged silence. After a beat, she dipped into a graceful curtsey, then bowed. I was struck by her radiant beauty. She looked like an angel, a martyr–– like the sun herself.
“Join me,” my sister commanded.
Obligingly, I lowered my head, and my body yielded to the light. I opened my mouth, cleared my throat in preparation for reintroductions, and then halted, for the light had disappeared. My sister sighed mournfully, and my lips trembled in turn. She was burning with excitement before, holding my hand and guiding me to the basement. She wanted to pass over the torch and let us both, as sisters, be burned by the sublime. My sister made for the basement’s stairs now, and her hazel eyes were glued to the floor. Before leaving, she murmured, speaking more to herself than to me,
“It was a mistake, me taking you here. It is not your time yet.”
I waited until her footsteps were a distant echo, then dropped to the basement floor, shivering. I prostrated myself towards the window.
*
I was so cold that day, this I remember. So, so mind-numbingly cold, but my socks and shoes came off anyway, and my sister and I walked together to the edge of the lake. The water was bluer than the skies, than sapphire stones. We dipped our feet in the water, sitting adjacent to each other. She placed her arm on my shoulder, gazed at the light in reverence, then spoke:
“Bless you who blesses this lake with your being. You, the creator of such beauty. You, who kisses me so lovingly.”
The light shone stronger in response, casting a halo over her face.
“You are different today, sadder. What is the matter?” my sister asked.
I opened my mouth to answer her, wanting to tell her I was as cold as an evening moon but also how deeply I desired to enter the water that very instant, to let it consume me wholly… I realised, however, from the blankness of her large eyes and stiffening of her shoulders, that she was not speaking to me. On this winter’s day, I sat at the lake’s edge with my sister. My head rested against her chest, and I sank into her warmth. My sister, however, on the same day and hour, was in the arms of a different being. A being who she loved, loved so deeply…
In a solemn, reverent voice, my sister whispered to Her, “That is your will, your divine will. Do not cry, give me your tears. I trust your will. Take me… take me.”
My sister’s eyes then cleared, and she stared intensely at me. Her gaze was one of deep, tired sorrow. Despair, unlike I had ever seen, overpoured out from her. Give me your tears, my sister had said. Give me your tears and take me. I did not know what this meant. All I knew was that my sister was drifting away from me, called by the light. I had failed as a child to greet Her properly; the light had not chosen me, and because of that my sister was now alone. But there was still time; all I needed to do was stay seated there in her arms, and say something, anything.
But I was so cold. My lips were frozen. Mind numb. Besides, what could I have said? What could have possibly saved her from light Herself? Rather I freed myself from her grasp and fell softly into the water, opening my eyes beneath the surface to find a magnitude of azure hues. My arms pushed outwards, and I travelled deeper, deeper, guided by thick shame, into the dejected body of the lake. I knew, the moment I entered the lake’s body, that I would never see my sister again. Her voice echoed, take me, take me, and I knew that she was gone, now a saint of the sky. I wanted to drown, and the darkness of the thought shocked me. I wanted the water to take me forever. Time passed, and I emerged at the lake’s surface, breathing out heavily. I sat at the lake’s edge, shuddering all over. I was now alone.
*
There was nowhere to place the pain. Do you want it? Do you want to carry it? Will you remember her for me? I moved with the wind and followed the late afternoon sun. A beam of light enveloped my body as I passed by a guitarist as tall as the trees around him. He played a melancholic melody, and the head of his guitar was tilted to the sky, as if he was calling the light to listen, to feel his pain. I wondered how many of us there were out there, those paralysed at the edge of our worlds, estranged from Her grasp. Although I knew how great a burden it was to feel the light, for my sister felt it and now she was gone, I still felt a deep, almost inhuman, and shameful desperation to be entangled in Her arms. Intermingling with the guitarist’s melodies were the sound of holy bells ringing, and low, droning chanting that served to lift a soul, gently, tenderly from their body. I imagined these symphonies would lead time herself to stand still in awe and listen. But this proved to be only an illusion, for the sky was less bright now, yielding itself into twilight’s arms. Remembering the darkness of the basement and the trace of light that escaped from the window, I folded, like a falling tree branch, into the position I was taught as a girl. I performed a curtsey, then bowed.
“Why…was that your will?” I asked the light. “Please… Please… Are you listening? I can’t…” the words fell from my lips. Dismembered and forced out letter by letter.
All was silent and night was soon to fall. I walked until the sun set, till dusk arrived, till the dying of the light. It was then, when I stood alone in the starless sky, that my heart started to burn. It was as if all the energy of the world was concentrated on my body, entering my thoughts, my skin, my blood. No longer able to stand, I collapsed onto the floor. My ears were ringing, and the world was dark. The feeling was so horrible, so great, so divine. I focused all my remaining energy on dissecting the piercing sound that burned in my ears. Faintly, I heard a woman’s cry. An ethereal voice, speaking to me. How loving the voice was… How tender she sounded… I realised, then, (how did I not realise this immediately?) that my sister was speaking, and the undercurrent of noise disappeared. My hands rose to touch the far away sky, and I wept with abandon, surrendering myself. I heard her very clearly. My sister said, ever the sage spirit,
“Your time has arrived. Do you see Her?”
