“Hidden Embers”……………….…..pp

Hidden Embers By Jason C. Merriam ’04

What is it to be the last? Just present, no future, no past. Last of a tribe, a people, a belief. A feeling once fraught with anxiety

Yet now accepted with numbing relief. A living relic steeped in antiquity, Reminder of a forgotten age, Brimming with lost knowledge and skills.

I was raised far from civilization, The wilderness was my classroom and home. My grandfather the teacher, I, his pupil. I learned to hunt, to heal, to hone myself

Into a master of my surroundings. I immerse into ancient culture, The stories, art, dance, languages became mine. For over two decades we trained, waiting.

My mother died in childbirth. Father left To search for a bride among her people. He never returned. Grandfather was alone. Only a small babe, meager company

For a once legendary warrior. He made mistakes, but I grew strong and thrived Under his tutelage. He had one rule, Obedience. I lived by boundaries.

Grandfather knew the dangers of the world, So, he shut the door that we might be safe. Years went by, most days the same, then he died. I mourned him, in the old ways, as he wished.

I stayed in our camp for a few more months, Gathering supplies to explore the unknown. I leave in the light of my mother Moon, Trusting in her to keep me safe.

Through the world of my youth, I travel, Over the old hills, across cool streams, Through meadows teeming with wildflowers, I hear the chatter of the small animals.

I press beyond, past everywhere I know. The forests are thinning, the game sparse. I hear strange noises in the distance, Ominous lights encroach the moon and stars.

At dawn, on the fifth day, I found it. A river of black stone, stretching as Far as my eyes could see. Lifeless, cold, Perhaps a sign to mark the land of death.

I crept across it, hard, unyielding, The dew slick on its smooth ebon surface. Whispering my gratitude to the Spirit, I shamble my way into the scrub brush,

My clothing caught on the thorns and brambles. As I climb a large hill, my ears notice Noises that are unfamiliar to me. It drowns out the sounds of nature I know.

I decide to gain the summit, then wait for night. When the sun sets, the dissonant noise grows. I see the light of the Gods below, More numerous than the stars of the sky.

This land is not for my kind. I know this. Behind me, the serpents of the earth ride, Their eyes aglow along the dark river. There is no escape tonight. I must wait.

When dawn comes, I am tired, my sleep fitful. The buzzing and noises are silent now. I retreat down from the Gods, legs pounding, My footsteps barely under control.

I sprint across the river into cover, My breath rattling, my heart hammering. I remember Grandfather’s training. I find the center and compose myself.

I decide to return to my homeland, Knowing that I cannot live among those Gods who could destroy me without effort. I move in silence, when I hear screaming.

Instinctively, I rush toward the sound, Blood pumping, muscles tearing at the thought Of seeing another person again. I scramble through forest into a clearing.

Directly ahead is a temple to the Gods. It is tall like a tree and gleams white, Rising from the ground like a mountain. Walls surround it on all sides, barrier

For the gods to keep out the unworthy. Through the slits in the wall I see him.

A small man-child, the source of the screaming, Arms upraised to the sky all alone.

His hair the color of the highest sun, Skin as pale as the blooming moon flower. I notice that he has no food or drink, That he is trapped by the walls around.

He is smaller than I remember being. I think, has he been left to the Gods? Some sort of sacrifice? My mind turns red. Grandfather’s words to do what is just.

I vault over the wall, daring the Gods To strike me down. I cradle the child to me, Offering soft words of reassurance. The boy quiets. He plays with my long hair.

I sling him over my hip. His clothes are bright Compared to the buckskins that I wear. I heft my hand ax and strike the wall. Three pieces of it fall down and we escape.

I head for home where my world makes sense. I take the boy with me. I will raise him As my own son. He will learn everything, All of my knowledge, all of the culture.

When he is a man, we will venture forth. We will find the homes of the Gods again. We will find answers to all our questions. Together, we will find our place in the world.

By Zachary Bergstresser