Virga

I cant stop the rain from falling
Do what you must do
I can only hope to share
The pain I gave to you
We can climb to another world
If we never look down
We can join in the avalanche
And be thrown to the ground


The outer wagons had taken more of the brunt of the storm than those of the inner circles. Thankfully, there had not been a lot of major damages but there was more than enough accumulative minor damages. Without a wealth of stockpiles, these people lived within what they possessed so any loss was still a major one to them. Falon had understood this when she sent the furs before the move. She had known they would be needed at some point. I kept expecting her to come check on everyone and the fact she hadn't yet tugged at something. I missed her and looked up to find a particular cluster of little stars in the sky, glad I couldn't see anything.

I was hanging off the frame of a wagon, holding up pegs for a Master to nail a rib back into place when the rains came. That first big droplet hit with a big splash that felt like a magnolia pod grenade exploding on top my head. The deluge didn't seem to phase anyone here, just tucking their heads in defiance of it and continuing to work. Between the stinging pelts of hard rain, a Man's low baritone voice began to sing. It was a song of pain and loneliness that somehow didn't make you feel sad but gave you hope or maybe make you want to make everything just a little better.

Those that had been separated from their families had begun filtering through the lines, in fragile calls that sounded as half afraid of not finding them as they were half afraid they would. One tiny little boy was sitting alone in the dust, slapping both hands at it as if it were water to splash. Now and then he would look up, searching with a heartbreaking lost look and as the little crater filled with water he found a glee in the resulting mud pies. When the Master had no more need of me, I bounded off the wagon to scoop the boy up onto my hip. Pat, pat, pat, the little hands made teeny hand prints of mud on my shoulder as if I were a canvas meant just for his art.

It seemed as if it had been three forever's since I'd seen anyone of the first wagons. It wasn't that I didn't think of them. It was quite the opposite, they filled every thought. I could feel Fonce in a way I still could not explain. He surged through my veins, scalding his way through every step of my life. He was my joy and my sorrow and everything in between. I was beginning to trust that he was there, he was alright, he was busy living, surviving, taking care of others. I didn't have to see him to know it, I could feel him. I think that it would not matter now if I were right there at his boots or half a universe away.

Cana was made of stronger stuff than most. It wasn't as if I felt she was unbreakable but I knew she would find a way to make everything around her ... alright. If there was ever a model of womanhood, she was the one person I most wanted to emulate. Tarra was like Fonce in a way, I could still feel her, feel the smile beneath the sadness and sorrows. I don't know if it makes any sense but it is like rubbing your toes together under layers of quilts, it's already warm under there but it just adds a little more. The girls .. well the other girls I knew had hearts to serve and they would give their last breath to. Thinking of them put this little smile on my face.

When I looked back down into that little face I studied it for a long time. I tried to see the face of the Manchild written in his features and I couldn't. Feeling the softness of a shawl cover my shoulders, I could offer an appreciative smile to whoever it was that gave it then drew it around the boy, snuggly. It wasn't long before the child's mother came running toward me to relieve the little package from my arms. She held him close, dotting his face all over with kisses and tucked him inside her own cloak. I watched them for a long time after they disappeared into the rain.

Wasn't this all what I had wanted when I came here, to give them my eyes and have them see their world imprinted in them, the joys, the sorrows, the challenges and the triumphs? Why then did I feel as if the rain were my own tears ... torrents of them except that somewhere between where they began to fall and where they would splash and puddle they seemed to just ... evaporate?