Forgiveness in the Mourning Sky
As a young girl, I remember looking out into the red sunrise and being told that the gods were mourning. I recall thinking, ‘how could these beautiful wisps of pink and gold be full sadness?’ Now, as I see the red again today, my anguish runs deep and I mourn with them. This feeling of grief washes over me, shuddering through my spine and shoulders. My body moves forward aimlessly while I watch one foot move in front of the other. I feel an odd sense of gratitude knowing that I am not alone in this trial against myself. I feel like I now understand why the warmth of the sun is held back by clouds that bleed red into perfect blue.
I shudder as the cold takes away the warmth from around me, intent to remind me of my current isolation. I stand at a precipice, draped in the shadows that cover my body and every corner of my mind, watching while the sun hints at its arrival. The sunrise is no longer beautiful, but an echo of my innocence. It is ever-changing and fading in intensity. The realization takes my strength away. I am not as strong as His Light, and I fall. I fumble over myself and scuff my feet upon the ground. I look at my hands that were cleansed with water the day before, and I see the blood again. This time, it is my own skin that has been split open, torn by the rough earth. Though that is no more of a mercy than the new day, not when my mind makes the wound fresh again.
“I am so sorry,” I whisper out loud to my red hands. A sharp inhale pauses my sentence, “I could do no more. I am so sorry.” I bury my tattered palms inside the earth in front of me. I refuse the companionship of the sky and hide my face, looking down towards the unforgiving ground beneath me.
At that moment, I feel warmth embrace me.
It feels like forgiveness.
I feel the exoneration of the light, and instead of being made whole by the reverence of it, I feel anger. I feel undeserving of clemency, and with that comes the rage from being pardoned too quickly. I feel the fear of my actions haunting me in an unforeseen future.
My hands release the earth in a push against the ground, forcing it back in place as if I could hide my sadness inside it. I raise myself to my feet with my shaking arms, renewed by this sense of hollow anger and I yell to release myself from it. It is loud for a moment but it breaks, becoming weak and feeble. It feels like a bell surrounded by fabric to dim the tune. It is as though my body too, is against my mind, and knows the truth of the sunrise. That this red, so vivid in the passing moment, will fade with the vigilance of time. The squalling feelings of fear and rage ball up inside my chest, and I know in an instant that the only way to accept the warmth of this mercy, is to forgive myself as well. I do not have the strength to break free from my personal shackles yet, but I have been given a key. I stand, watching as the sun washes away the red as if it was never there.
