Grass blades stick into her skin as she lay on her back, completely bare. She sinks into the ground beneath her and can feel the Earth move in sync with her own breathing. Her eyes open to see the infinite blue above and stares into the eyes of melancholy while remembering the times she’s been here before.
The Sun’s beams melt into her spirit and she knows what love feels like. It is warm and consuming and blankets over her, keeping her safe from a Wind that can sometimes be too chilling. Once, the Wind had harmed her. While she laid bare, it turned sharp and angry and cut into her from every direction. It lifted her from the moistness of the ground and divided her from the heat that keeps her heart beating. But today, in this moment, the Wind cooperates with the Sun and the Earth. It enters through the pores of her skin and fills her with its resilience. And she forgives the Wind for its previous behavior, as she could never stay angry at her loved ones.
Rhythms come alive in her head. The Wind chimes in with melody, while the Earth thumps and the Sun hums. She hears the song so clearly. She knows every note. She begins to sing. First she sings to herself, then loud enough for her family to hear. They welcome her into the song and she’s euphoric as she stands tall and dances freely. She is open.
Her eyes are closed and she feels figures move around her. She hears buzzing in her ears. She opens her eyes and runs as fast as the rhythms will let her. The Earth, and the Sun, and the Wind keep up.
The song begins to fade as she now hears a low rumbling in its place. The figures she felt before now take the form of shadows in her shape, except somehow they are different. They are not connected to the Earth, and the Sun, and the Wind like she is. The figures are dark. They do not sing, and instead they whisper while they stand motionless. She can barely understand their language, but knows they don’t speak of love. She can’t feel her family anymore and she panics. She doesn’t know how to communicate with the figures and she can hear her words become inaudible. One of the figures grasps her wrists and something cold and hard wraps around them. This thing, very cold and very solid, does not let her move. Her arms cannot wave through the Wind anymore and her body becomes restrained. She closes her eyes.
Her consciousness is confined and she cries as she wonders how she could go from being so open and free, to being locked in a space that has no Earth, or Sun, or Wind. She finds that she is not allowed to be bare in this foreign place and forced to hide herself inside of a cloth that scratches her skin. Her family feels too far away from her and she is lost. So, she closes her eyes and listens to her heart beat. And with her breath she can feel the dew of her Earth, and with her blood she can feel the warmth of her Sun, and through her skin she can feel the strength of her Wind. Her family is within her, and she knows that love can never leave her again.
Georgia St. Jones is a California broke girl using music, art, and literature as a way to be universal and staff contributor for The Strange is Beautiful.
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