Will Of The Sky

I couldn't figure out why my breath refused to fill my lungs. It was like dust of the earth that rises only by the demand of power under moving wheels and millions of hooves of bosk now was misting its cloak of thickness in my chest. Had the Sky tired of my inner battle? Pity of myself, no. It was pure punishment not dealt by one of authority who found me guilty. No, in the fog of suffocation that was on me at this moment, everything was very clear. The Sky was telling me, ENOUGH. How dare I take upon this damnation of myself. I had no right to make choices for the Sky. To turn a blind eye to the paths I had been gifted with. I had forced myself to fall back. Make the decision that I wasn't worthy of what I was given. Take my family, my new family put before me, for the Sky does everything for a reason, and try to give them back to souls now on another plains above us. The fire had changed me. Instead of bringing me hope of future, I felt like I had failed. I couldn't save every soul. My hands couldn't heal deep below the flesh that protected what was most precious, our spirits. I tried to mask the real pain of myself with falling my wagons far towards the last, as if I was trying to find the girl's family. I was doing it for them. No, it was all me. I found no one, and I knew I wouldn't. I was running away from my destiny.

It was like a cruel whisper my Father would say, not to be cruel, but to point out what I allowed to always drown my anger of failure in the past. My blood isn't Tuchuk, how can I dare feel I could be anything here? Tuchuk is not just an entwine of woven flesh and muscle, organs and blood. It was a spirit. It was a pride. I am, what I decide I want to be.

I could lay here right now, and allow myself to fall into the slumber of buried dust now filling the inside of me. If this was the peace I was seeking, the Sky was giving it to me now. Just refuse to listen to the voice that was speaking to me now.

I am, what I decide I want to be.

Father, I am sorry. It has been over a hundred years of life in this tribe, it was the season, the time, it made sense. When I first opened in my in this very wagon. I had never known the very day, just knew the season, knew it was close, a century here, and today I would be given my final choice. The Sky had waited long enough.

Either I get up now, or just take what I seemingly had been searching for.

It was then, like a wagon rested on my frail vision of body crushed underneath it, did I push up on my elbows and sit up. When I opened my eyes, once I sat up, saw my girls, Tori and Tasha weeping in the hair of my daughters. Mine. Niyati, and Natalia lost in their arms trembling, did I say, with what bit of air, last of it, I had.

I'm sorry.

Did I feel a warmth come over me, and finally could I breath again.

Until all four figures crashed against me throwing me back against the furs. I just remember embracing all four, telling each how I loved them, I am here, stop crying. Eat, dress, so much work to do today, we had to pack, we are moving the wagons back up, someone please get Niyati's hair combed and braided. I would have girls whose hair was long, wild, and hated to be combed.

It was then, I think I fell back to sleep. The feeling was pure, like sleeping on the surface of a stream rocked gently by the breeze. I might have thought the moment was a dream, until all was clear when I woke up again, for the second time.