Nadiah awakens by the cool breeze shuddering her skin back into the core of her body. She wonders how long she has been in this summer meadow. As her eyes touch a near by oak, she realizes the season has changed. The tree’s canopy of golden burnt-orange leaves dancing in the new autumn wind.
Everything for the moment seemed silent. Just a faint rustling of the leaves. Even the buzz of the bees she could no longer hear.
As she begins to rise out of the dying grass. Nadiah’s anahata fills with a painful heaviness that pulls her body back down to the ground. Her body is quaking as her chest and throat are closing like a vault.
As her mind tries to reason with her body, it evens slides off balance into suffocating fear.
She starts to let go.
She knows it.
The lack of oxygen leaves her giddy.
And she believes the warm sensation in her head are her brain’s transmitters shooting and bursting like fireworks; to then sizzle out into cellular ashes. But the warm sensation did not stop in her mind.
It slid down her throat and chest like honey. Then down through her arms to her naval and stretched to her legs. Once it reached her toes, her whole body opened up like a golden champa flower for the sun.
She now not only could breathe fully. She could hear fully.
Her ears absorbed with what sounded like thousands of rapid speaking tongues, until the voices broke into a singular voice like a diving echo.
In confusion she questioned its’ source, “Is it in her?” The voice begins to turn into a hum, then a vivid male’s voice breaks into a lyrical tone,
Your quivering heart no more
You’re jewel droplets
To this sacred ground
Aqua is your tranquil mind
Your arrival is harmonized
In the highest love of the awe.”
And then there he was appearing like an image on the emulsion of reality.
His dark eyes were deep seats of joy. His face a sculpted masterpiece of cherished time.
And a gentle smile that perished any doubts in her mind.
Without an utterance she knew she was going somewhere with him.
But where she did not know.
She was not afraid as she took his extended hand into her own, hand of crimson.
And like a pure drop in the ripples of sound, he spoke,
” Hello Nadiah.
I am Beara.
I’ll be your guide.”
And as if the earth escaped from the sun, everything grew dark. Except Beara, who glowed like a lantern in the unknown ebony.
And from this magical lantern, a whisper,
“This is trust.”
Poem: Naomi Ruth/ Art: altered by Naomi Ruth & Violet Aveline (peer and loving friend)