Smoke

Clear blue skies, not too much to ask for,
They were here before we came,
Will they be here when we're gone?
Clean water, not too much to hope for,
It's the basis of our lives
And without it we are done.
Well we can keep our eyes upon the skies
And see how the time goes by
Or we can find our fears among the tears
That fall when the meadows cry, cry cry.
Well we can keep our eyes upon the skies
And see how the time goes by
Or we can find our fears among the tears
That fall when the meadow cries.
Clear ideas, much too much to think of.
We need all the help we can get
(And I know) we need all the time that we've got
(And I know) we need all the love we can give,
It will be here when we're gone (clear blue skies)

Written By Graham Nash

The lines of people and kaiila wove from the encampment to the pyre like streamers. There were so many who came wishing to celebrate the life of a good warrior, that it tugged at the heart and stung the eyes. He had been a man who had touched the lives of his people, whether it was in giving his own for their protection or offered some of his own strengths to those around or even taking in a stray wisp like me and making me feel at home among his fires.

Gifts for the fallen warrior soon began to pile upon the bier, trinkets for him to take with him to the skies. The women who loved him stood proud and tall shouldered even in their grief. The men in his command held a noble bearing as they offered their respects. It was perhaps Papa Kur that affected me most as he rode forward with lance raised in one hand and saber aloft in the other, his voice rumbling across the plains carrying to the horizon and beyond ...

HEAR ME, O GREAT SKY....ANOTHER WARRIOR COMES TO RIDE WITH YOU ... WELCOME HIM ... I AM KAMCHAK, AND THIS IS MY GRANDSON LOCHLAN ... LET HIS ENEMIES BEWARE FOR HE COMES TO RIDE ONCE AGAIN ...

A singer came forward to offer a wonderful gift of song and the sound of Lochlan's father's drum. It was mesmerizing to hear and I found that my feet could not remain still. Most gathered were so stoic, so reserved and yet I felt the joys, of his having lived such a fiercely passionate life, want to break loose within me. I wanted to sing ... to sing at the top of my lungs and dance ... dance like I have never danced before, simply in honor and in celebration. There were others who offered song, who offered dance, who offered the words that exposed the depths of their hearts.

In my own way I wanted this to be a celebration for Edmund too, to know that even though the battlefield had taken him, that his life had been cherished and proclaimed throughout the galaxy as having been glorious. By the time the smoke reached the clouds there was not a dry eye to be found along the plains.

As the crowds began to dwindle away, I stepped close enough to let a small scrimshawed kaiila talon drop from my fingers into the flames. On the smooth grayed surface, I'd carved an image of the rolling plains, the stream, and the sky. Ride on well Warrior.

Tears were left untouched along my cheeks just as the others had. Tears of pride and joy, tears of grief for those left here to carry on, tears of passion for the life we lived ... together.