See Her Dance
By: lanesa

standing in a spinning world, we are beyond sorrow, above it.

The water was still that day.
The sky was clear, crimson vestiges of sunset dappling us all in pastel hue, and even now, I can picture it so clearly.
The earth quieted down to watch you; the trees shivering in anticipation as the wind ebbed to a tranquil whisper and the sea waited, patient and glistening. Even the sun-warmed wood of the docks hummed your praises to itself.
You touched the water, and you danced.
Like the quiet ripples parting for you, and the light weaving prose within your hair, your movements were the interplay of sunbeams on water, the harmony of luminescent stars suspended in velvet sky. They set me free, and my heart soared.
I watched you. The cadence of your footfalls upon reflected sky, the graceful curve of your neck, the fluid whirls and twists of your hips and shoulders; bending, spinning to a rhythm that sang in your heart alone. You danced; in it embodied a hymn, a psalm, a prayer of hope, because you were poetry in motion.
You were my poem.
Then the water bore you onto its shoulders, raising you to meet the heavens, and your outstretched fingertips strew crystal droplets among us all.
Our souls danced with you then. Iridescent orbs of shimmering memory, translucent dreams and wishes they roused to listen to your hymn, to sing sweet tribute, but then with the whisper of your breath they were gone, gone to the place far beyond.
I watched the people that day. I felt their tears and I heard their grief, saw their anguish. And I marveled that even in a world filled with water they continued to give so freely even more liquid; salty drops of mourning.
I saw the little girl who gazed at you with wide eyes, the sheen of her tears left unshed. You were her inspiration, her ambition. To the old woman who stood leaning heavily upon a wooden post, you were her savior, her salvation. You were the fatherís hope, the sisterís relief, the little boyís wonder, the motherís solace. Families torn asunder, but you offered them release, gave them closure.
That was the day I began to see the hope in you.
You became my courage. Became my resolve. Because if you could do that for your people, for Spira, then I could too.
So when you requested that I be your guardian, I agreed without a secondís thought. It was all a game to me at first; a diversion that carried an intricate sword, reveling in the feel of enemies being crushed beneath a sleek blade. As our journey progressed however, I watched the othersí faces turn more solemn by each passing day, and I watched your smiles become more frequent to hide the pressing weight upon your shoulders. You didnít have to bear your burden alone. I would have gladly taken it, and I tried to, so very hard. I can still remember the sunlight playing across your skin that day, can still hear the breath of air you took in your attempt to whistle. I made you forget then, for a little while.
But in the end it was you who taught me how to laugh.
Remember that night, under the stars? Shining so radiantly like diamonds strewn across a ribbon of velvet, they were so near I lost my breath when I looked at you, for it seemed as if they had come to settle in your hair, giving you a crown of starlight.
I had come to talk to you, to apologize, to beg forgiveness for my carelessness, but the words wouldnít come, and I could think only of how the twilight reflected in your eyes.
It was then that you started telling me everything, and I began to see things Iíve never seen before, and I saw how the light glimmered across the pond and how the moonlight pushed away the shadows and how the willow trees wept softly for memories long gone.
You were crying, too. I saw the crystalline droplets ripple across the surface of the water, and suddenly I couldnít speak I couldnít breathe but I knew what to do. I can still remember the feel of you, cradled against my chest, the way your heartbeat felt, pounding so delicately against mine, and I wanted to hold you to me forever. Everything seemed so clear, so palpable all of a sudden; I wondered why I never realized it before. Like the soft flutter of your eyelashes against my cheek and the warm honey of our mouths, greedy in our generosity, sliding together, and the caress of your hands in my hair, the gentle heat of your breath alongside mine and the brush of my lips across your skin.
And all the while translucent bubbles danced around us in an explosion of effervescent prism while the quiet water kissed our bodies.
For one clear moment, you made me dream. Daring, bold dreams that I never would have dreamt before, for with you there, along beside me, I could do anything I wanted to, and yet all I wanted was simply you. For one pure moment, I could see the blissful winding road ahead of me, with you beside me every step of the way. For one transparent moment, everything was all right.
But dreams are just dreams, and a dream within a dream would slip through my fingers, spiraling into an infinity.
I vowed to protect you. I vowed to be with you, always. I guess I will, always, my heart my mind, but in the end it was I that needed protecting.
I knew what would happen. I did what I had to do, but that didnít mean it didnít frighten me, standing there with the darkness piercing through between my shoulder and my knees.
I knew the ending before I began.
He told me that it was my story.
But how can it be my story if the ending was already written, long before the start? How can it be my story when it was traced, like the tears streaked across your face, by nostalgic spirits deep in their troubled slumber?
I didnít write this ending. I never wanted this ending. I wanted my hope and my courage, I wanted the fragile beauty of your eyelashes against my lips and the lilacs of your hair, soft under my fingertips.
I wanted my poem.
You were my poem, but I didnít write you because you were too perfect to be put into mere words, and I was your dream.
And I hope you understand, because itís the hardest thing Iíve ever had to do, and I didnít think I could face the hurt in your eyes or the trembling of your shoulders. When you told me you loved me, the tremor of your chin and the curve of your neck, angled away from me, I saw the strength and the courage within you and I knew you would be okay, but I didnít think I would be.
My hands that snaked around you were to sooth my anguish, and to offer you my promise, one last time. And even though the sky between my skin was becoming clearer by the moment and I didnít think I could feel anything anymore I could still feel you, just like the first time.
One more time Ė before it was over.
Void of eternity, into it I fall, and before I go I see their faces in quiet acceptance and I can taste the salt of her tears as they seep into the ground.
But somehow I donít remember why or how this blue-green water encases me, and what sunlight is doing dappling the waters above my head. All I can see is her face before me, and I remember how she couldnít whistle and the promise I made to her. But even then, I can hear the whistle, floating high through unclouded skies, and as the smile smoothes the heaviness from my mind, there is nothing that can stop me from going.
Itís my story.
Maybe the ending hasnít been written yet.