Historical Setting, 629 C.E. A burial place near Trier
In an aching darkness from nightmares in shadows, I imagine rising from a timeless cavern, maybe to consciousness, or possibly a better dream. I must be waking now in this darkness, in cold, hurt and hunger — voices of earth, not heaven, shout for shovels.
“Papa, it is me, Brandell. Can you hear me?”
If this is earth it shouldn’t be the voice of Brandell. That barefaced child passed over the mountains to the sea. He’s gone now. An anxious familiar face is looking – he is face-to-face here by me. I know him well, as though I see my own self looking back. This isn’t my child, Brandell, it must be a dream caught up in the currents between spirit and dream.
“Papa, Momma has been waiting for you these years. I will leave Gaia here to wait with you, while I go find someone to help.”
Whatever does he mean “all these years?” Is now, not now, now? Have I been reborn into someone else’s then? Is this what it is to become old?
Glimpsing at daylight now, what I know is that this is some place on earth. There is the earthly order to it with sky above, and this grounding where we cling with a rock and a tree. All this good pattern can overwhelm the oddities of dream if I let it be enough, but I don’t know where I am. I have Brandell’s cloak over me, but he doesn’t seem to be nearby. I don’t remember coming to a place with this tree, and these stones marked with names for the dead. It is the dead who have names here.
A woman’s voice speaks to me, “We will take you home soon. Brandell’s momma is older now, but she still waits for you in life. You will be able to see her soon, I know.”
Waiting in life, is that what Ana is? Is that what aging is for humankind?
Now I can focus my eyes on the things in daylight. There is a young woman right here beside me with dark hair and wandering eyes, and I see behind her stands a very old woman also in Eastern dress, with graying hair.
The young woman speaks, “Papa Lazarus, I am Gaia, Brandell’s betrothed.”
“Betrothed?”
“I’ve come with him from my old home in Constantinople to make a new life with Brandell, here in Gaul.”
She says here, like I know where we are. I ask, “Where is this?”
(Continues tomorrow)
Lazarus Ink 