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Trisha woke with a start. Light from a waning harvest moon cast its ghostly light across the room. She could not remember her dream, but the flood of remorse and sadness still lingered. A sudden rush of panic swept over the woman, sending a chill running down her spine, making her shoulders shake. Still the man’s heavy breathing went unchanged, its rhythmic song as the air was sucked into his lungs halting, held in quiet suspense then finally expelled in gentle release. Somehow that calmed the Trisha’s heart, but it didn’t quell the deep sadness growing within it.
As she lifted her arm and pulled her naked body away from Zadar’s sleeping embrace, the cool autumn breeze fell upon her sweaty skin, sending another chill racing through Trisha’s body. She clasped her arms together and, after pulling herself from the bed, found a towel to pat the dampness away.
Finished, Trisha cast a glance back toward a still sleeping Zadar, his left arm flopped across the bed where she had been sleeping. How peaceful a picture the man painted, but an aching grew as she watched him. What was wrong with her? She knew that her love was constantly growing for this person, but what she was feeling now wasn’t love. No! It was gripping fear. But fear of what? There was no need to fear Zadar. He would never abandon her or betray her trust. He would never leave.
Trisha stiffened. Slowly she turned and quietly walked past the wafting curtains onto the balcony. The upper apartment Zadar had found for them was high on the hillside about a mile from Oros Army Base. He persuaded her into moving out of the officers’ quarters, claiming both she and her lieutenants needed to have some space. It was true. Up here a person could tuck the coming war away and think of other enjoyable things. But tonight, as she looked across the city’s lower plain and saw the never dimming lights and watched the clouds of furnace smoke shadow the clear sky, the thought of war gripped her, tying her stomach into knots.
The breeze was cool, yet it refreshed her. As it caressed the woman’s skin, she could feel tightness grow in the flesh of her breasts while the cold air made her nipples harden. It was all very sensual. Trisha’s thoughts drifted back to the romance she had earlier shared with the man sleeping in the nearby room. Never in her life had she felt so loved and cared for as she did when with him. A lilting fuzziness filled her head while she dreamily recalled the past few evenings.
In an instant, the beautiful vision vanished and the earlier torrent of gripping panic returned. With fear-filled eyes, she came to the realization of the reason for its cause. ‘I cannot risk losing him! How can I continue to live without the man’s touch and caress, his eyes smiling at me, or his soft, gentle love songs?!’ Her hands began to shake and tears flooded her eyes.
Trisha reached out and clutched the balcony rail. Her head dropped as she quietly wept. The moon’s shadow was long surrendered to the darkness before the woman’s eyes tired of shedding tears. During that time, a sad comprehension grew within her heart. How many Zadars existed below, in the camps and on waiting transports? It would be her voice that would condemn them to Hell, tear them asunder, and destroy forever what little innocence remained within them. There was nothing she could do to stop it, yet she must be the one to command it. She was to set the day for their slaughter.
Looking back toward the dark opening of the room and thinking about the person sleeping within, Trisha began to understand the sacrifice of these beautiful people. She had never really come to love a man. To satisfy his pleasures in the bed, to bring forth fruitage from the womb, and to care for the needs of her family were responsibilities she accepted for being a woman. Love was an option that few of her kind had truly experienced. Their tears were often tears of loss, loss of a caretaker or protector, or possible loss of security. That fear of loss had often been mistaken for love. Now she was starting to comprehend love.
Love was something so different, so much more beautiful. It changed forever its possessor, leaving an eternal brand on that person’s soul. These people were raised in a universe filled with that kind of love. For six thousand years, they had willingly risked its loss in order to return peace to a world divided. Could Trisha’s pain at just the fear of losing Zadar be any greater than the pain suffered when these children lost people they loved? Still, they did not falter. To the bitter end they carried the banner of war. They steeled themselves and pushed all other emotion aside as they advanced into the face of death. Who really were these children of a lost age?
Suddenly, like the striking of a distant bell on a clear night, Trisha understood. Love is not fleeting. Love is timeless, immortal. As long as one’s heart beats, as long as the mind can remember, true love cannot die. Real security comes with honest, unabashed love, for no one can steal it from you. Yes, it was common to mourn the loss of a person gone, but the dreams of days spent filled with love remained to comfort the tired soul on stormy nights. There was no need to fear the loss of real love, and these children of Lowenah understood better than all others that truism.
Trisha began to smile - a sad and lonely one - but still a smile. What she and Zadar had could never be stolen away from them. Whatever the future brought, it couldn’t change what was already come. It was an impotent warrior against the past. Yet, if the battle was won, all those lost lovers would one day rekindle the smoldering flames of the heart. The risk of loss of a lover was but momentary, yet the sacrifice of their flesh would assure a returning of love remembered. To understand that was the beginning of wisdom.
So it was: to win this war, one must not fear loss. While two hearts still beat together in peace, they should not waste the moment wondering at possible parting. Savor each day one still has with a lover and do not ponder walking the lonely path. Give to the full now, before the cup is broken forever. Enjoy the love while it is there for the taking.
Trisha sighed. She was born to this world for a purpose and she would carry it out. Whatever the loss, it was a paltry price to pay for what it was able to purchase. The runners had come to the game filled with a personal desire to contend. It was her duty to lay out the course that would give them victory. They would still run without her, yet she had been privileged to set the course and lead the race. Tomorrow was another day. What it delivered was not worthy of this night.
The cold gust of wind hurried up from the valley below. Trisha wrapped herself in her arms, darted past the curtains and was soon cuddling close to a man complaining how frozen she was. Trisha giggled, “Then why don’t you warm me up?”
Oh, the songs of love.
How enchanting are your refrains, and how hypnotic your music.
Let the mountains carry your voice to the stars so they might declare the joy you bring.
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