#81.3 Thursday, June 4, 2026

Historical Setting: The Great Skellig in an unknown time

This darkness has a cruel waking. The dream left me floundering in the hot dark sea, and Cloothar is calling me to save him, but I can’t move. He is sinking down, and I can’t reach him. I just let him go. Deep, dark, lost…

The nightmare that left me dead in the tidal wash took Cloothar and his little craft into the depths. He was clutching his chest of gold coins begging me to help him. Now, here in this place of healing, the canine, with three legs, I call her Trinity, hoovers over me, then goes and awakens the little monk.

He comes to my side in the dark and lights a candle from the embers – sets it on the small rock near my head. He gives me a sip of cool water and he washes my face with a wet cloth; he places the cool cloth on my head exactly in the place he has shaven my hair back in this celtic tonsure.  The candle is pooling light, pretending there is no more darkness. Light is illusion of comfort amid the darkness. A candle is a smattering of imagination for hope, even when I know darkness is all. 

The monk takes my hand in both of his hands and closes his eyes — a gesture to say that you are still with us here, Dear God, in this tiny orb of light. It is safe and quiet.

But in this fevered moment, my thoughts are captive to grief.  I wanted to help Cloothar.  I wanted to reach out and pull us together back into the boat. The boat was broken. I couldn’t help! Dear God, forgive my frail failing! Forgive me for letting go of him.

***

The day birds announce the light and the little monk is still by my side after what must have been a most uncomfortable night for him. He is asleep seated on the ground resting his head on the rock that also supports the spent wax of the candlestick — the candle burned to its nub, then out. There is nothing of it now but the fray of wick in wax. When he rises in the day on stiff knees, he takes a hold of his walking stick by the door to pull himself to his full stature, such as it is, and begins a new day.

(Continues Tuesday, June 9, 2026)