Sirena

The peaks and swells of winter snow cradled me like a soft woolen blanket that day. Time froze the moment that photo was taken. The buds of snowfall caressed my bare, warm skin. Even though it was below centigrade, I was boiling hot, convinced that it was summer's swelter.

There is an intensity to my gaze, if you look at me, as I was not actually there. Well, my body was parked in the bare forest, aglaze with white. Yet, my soul was lured toward something that I was searching for ...

I had stepped through my own mirror, the frosted ice shimmering like a portal into my interior world. The concentration of winter dug deep, surpassing the shallow surface of snow drift and revealing its glacier. Inside, I burned like a fire pit, my emotions wrangled and confused, attempting to spark ablaze.

Staring deeply, I squinted, forcing my repressed memories to reignite. My gaze penetrated the depths of mysterious waters, which called to me, swelling and lapping alluringly at the edge of smashed glacier shards. Not long ago, I had fished for large trout in those waters, the sun burning against my supple skin. That version of myself was light and lilting, her song harmonious in the swinging air.

As if in response, I heard my name. Sirena, the water called playfully. It's time to send out your call. My voice, a blessing and a curse, had a haunting quality to it, when I allowed it to escape my throat in its glory. I remember, that eve, that it cried loudly and desperately in the vast, scary space.

My feet landed atop a boat's deck. Intuitively, my gaze fell upon a dimly lit lantern swinging eerily against a cabin wall, flashing shadows of a silhouette on a rocking chair. Stepping curiously across the wooden planks, I found myself staring out at the stark, haunted horizon. I could swear I heard it whispering eerily, beckoning me to come closer.

The rocking chair creaked in the stark silence, jolting me alert. The silhouette transformed into a living, breathing figure. I met the gaze of an old woman, her grey hair floating carelessly in the breeze.

"Brown eyes," the old woman's voice was hoarse and eerie. "You have made it here, as heated as my saucepan." Her mouth spread into a cracked smile and she laughed jovially, slapping her thigh. Beneath her long, rusty coloured dress, her sandalled feet kicked wildly.

Behind us, the sunlight fractured into small particles, which floated lightly in the air. As large as the snow fall, the particles pelted against our skin, bouncing playfully back into the air.

Untouchable by the weather, my soul sat still, contemplating its surroundings. There was a vast emptiness inside me, that refused to attach itself to the minor mechanics of the world. To seek too closely, was to ask for a depth I was not equipped to handle or explore with too much detail.

As my curious gaze settled on the old woman, my being twisted and turned. It wanted to depart from the situation, to skip across the broken breadths of ice that adorned the lake's waters. It wanted to dig deep and discover the large trout that flourished in the depths. As my determination beat its fist inside me, I turned to face the empty sky up high.

The deep blue stretched long and fluffy, like an overhanging blanket, streaked with deep oranges and reds. Streaks as deep as the desperate scratch of my finger nails, as I grasped desperately at the un-catchable swelling of waves.

I closed my eyes, denying the memories the colours triggered, aware that I was stepping in too deep. It was easier to pretend that I didn't know anything, nor was I attached to anyone. My deep memories were plaguing my wake, manifesting real moments into absurd imagery, which accompanied me wherever I went.

Inhaling a deep breath, I returned to the deck, my eyes softening as it observed the watery eyes of the old woman. Deep, relieving eyes that met mine that very day, when I desperately needed to see them again."Aunty Bonita," my mouth formed her name. "I am so thankful that you were here for me."

A crashing sound burst through my mind, a world of thunderous waves and smothered breath. My feet had skipped assuredly across the broken ice, my body welcoming its watery depths. I was too trusting, the lake was too cruel.

Aunty Bonita was stronger than I realised, her wide arms the biggest comfort I needed. Her laughter, a piercing, welcome relief in the stark nothingness of life.

I had come to, coughing and spluttering, yet alive.