— an anecdote of potpourris.
For You, I’d Cross Oceans.
A maiden’s relentless search for a sense of belonging.
I began my voyage with a vision: the warmest haven that my soul had been deeply longing. A thirst-quenching oasis that would not go dry no matter how many lips would cling their lives to, a simple arm of the sea that would greet my withering skeleton as how mothers would fondle their young.
For this reason, I went rogue to what I once held dear.
With the company of a lifeboat that I named Elpida (Greek, for hope), I set sail at the crack of dawn. Where the atmosphere capitulates to the invigorating morning droplets, disarming my sight with its forenoon breeze and its subtle grey.
Mindless couldn’t describe what I was. A lone maiden venturing the vast blue, in search of something that was still beyond her comprehension. Hunger was not my foe — it evokes long enough for me to recall my purpose. I sailed for many moons and one day — on the edge of where the great sun reflects — lies my first islet.
I paddled constantly without the slightest care. I carefully secured Elpida to its shores for she was on her last legs to rest. As I walked, each grain of sand revamped itself in front of my very eyes — telling me what the islet was called. It bears the prophet’s name, Muhammad. The holiest, wouldn’t he be?
His surface was almost barren. There’s hardly any life in sight yet I didn’t show mistrust. His gust of wind appointed where he thought I should go.
I went along and was taken into one of the most stunning panoramas: a high abyss with a radiating eventide amidst the orange waves. I was one with the air until the sun was no longer.
The islet soon turned dark, its surface had gone piercing cold, unveiling its intentions. He waged countless wars with other maidens and always triumphed. It feeds on love and consumes it raw.
I knew right then and there, Muhammad was not my home to settle. I ran and pushed resting Elpida back into the ocean.
Too long at sea, this vision of mine begun to slowly emerge as a wild chimera. I couldn’t see far beyond what my mind projected. The longest trails of ignes fatui that would never settle to be caught yet continue to scintillate in the darkest, densest part of the woods — feeding nothing but hope to lost souls who are ceaselessly marching to God only knows where.
As I was paddling through, a line was thrown — tempering our restful pace.
His name was gallantly written on his freeboard: Ettore. Ettore was … robust. He hasn’t had any up-keeping for he was too proud, voyaging without a single crew. He hauled us across the mighty tide, leaving us with no work at all.
For months he carried us both. Words were important to us; I climbed aboard at times to polish his slowly perishing woods. I felt as though I was indebted to him for saving our lives. After all, this was indeed better than rowing all by myself. I was indeed mistaken.
One silent night of June, Ettore was different. His masts were furious, yet there wasn’t anything on the deck that would startle his might. His ropes slowly unwind and reach for my arms trying to gain control.
As I tried to break loose, Ettore showed himself in his eternal flesh — a horror no world would acknowledge. I screamed for help but none would hear except he who was succumbed with lust. I pleaded, cried, and shrieked in pain yet he whispered, “This would only take a minute my love, it won’t hurt. I promise”.
My consent was defiled.
I opened my eyes to my scorching sun who looked at me in rage. Ettore had left us in the midst of despair. Elpida was wilting, for all this time Ettore dragged her too roughly. She was in need of mending yet I was too weak.
I didn’t have the courage to sail. Tears rained my days heavily as I lost faith in my course. I sleep my days away uncaring until I was stranded on land.
I didn’t set foot right away after I arrived. I didn’t have anymore courage to try. “One more and I’ll die”, I kept telling myself.
It took me three full moons to finally rise. By then, Elpida was corrupted with holes all over. She passed away and I’ve been sleeping in her corpse not wanting to let go.
I went out to seek shelter. I walked on its coast and already I noticed the air surrounding me was gloomy. War waged here not so long ago, leaving trails of blood and destruction in its paths.
Suffering was all that was present during my walk to nowhere but on the edge of the island, stood a white herculean lighthouse that seemed sturdy enough for me to stay there. As I approached closer, it was evident that the war had taken its toll. Its walls were slowly tearing like paper against a shredder.
Yet up above, a gentle glowing sheen revolved around its glass; providing what I’ve been so naively seeking. The days have clearly taken something from us yet here we are. Shoulder to shoulder, striving. As if we were ready for what follows when in truth, we would tumble and wither should there be another strike.
“Slowly,” I said, “You and me”.
Guiding lost ships’ search back home, as I mend my world and you with yours. Years from now, I’ll bathe in your never-ending warmth, as you took shelter under my stories of what I went through to get to you.
Until then, we’ll lead in silence.
