hang em high [sweetwater saints day 2]

I run the photograph between my fingers, holding it up in the air to try and place it in the skies—except I can't. The energy the skies once held between the cloud has dissipated; the destruction in the stars has been let go and it has been replaced by a feeling of melancholy. I'd like to think that the sky is looking down and feeling blue after what has just happened, but the air is dry, and the heavens have no tears to cry.

It doesn't stop me, though. I tell Berlin and Hisidro that I'm going to collect some plants to tend Berlin's wounds with, but in reality, I can feel the full force of my fragility. I excuse myself because emotion is everything; I am still human, just as I was before, and this is an outburst of love that is contained within tiny teardrops. They hold the sadness from the strings of my heart, they hold the words I don't want to say to myself. 

It becomes real if I do. I live in reality but sometimes it is easier to let it go a little, to dream so that you can freely breathe.

But only for a moment—reality is the most important. I do not want to lose touch of the stories told, the moments made, the people silenced. It is okay that the harshness of reality involves crying because crying is what makes people listen. I'm not ashamed to cry. Teardrops are the ultimate truth teller for me, because when I look in everyone else's eyes, they are glazed with glory.

I look in their eyes and I can't see them, I can't see the people behind the eyes. I'd give them a hug, heaven knows they need it, but something tells me they'd embrace me with a stab in the back.

Moments can cut like knives, but they are not evil—not like people.

I bring a bundle of plants back to Berlin, offering them to him so that he can start to be fixed. He's covered in blood and wounds; his arms and legs are raw, but he's breathing. It's a blessing after Zion.

"But we lived. We're lucky." I tell him, thinking of Zion again. "I don't think the creature will live long with a broken leg, anyway. It looked pained." As if it wanted to die, in a way; perhaps it would've been the most loving thing to do to put it out of its misery. Maybe ending a life doesn't always have to be something bitter, something that hurts—it could heal too. Dying with dignity is important.

Berlin motions to the distance and I hear that familiar beat of hooves against the ground and my heart sinks for a moment, before he points out that they are docile. I smile a little, it's half a grin, a somewhat sorry one, but it's there nonetheless because life is an echo. We've had Zion taken in an instant and now the world is giving back; an opportunity to have company again, to have a friend, to try and fill the Seven-sized hole in my heart with a horse. Of course, it would never fill a home-sized hole, no matter how hard it tried.

Home is my only cause. I start to think of Lenox Lachance and how she needed saving, and I saved her because I lead with my heart. It is the same heart that wants to bright light back into the eyes of the broken, to provide Zion's family with some sort of comfort and support, to do things for the greater good, to be a champion for the people who feel like they are made of china. From Lenox to Lex—I hope that she is watching me, I want her to see how I'm true to my words and to myself.

But it is Angel's lesson of patience that comes into play in these moments. Wrangling a horse would, of course, be a feat easier said than done. Berlin proves that quickly, his broken leg forcing him holding him back when he tries to lasso a horse into his life. He mumbles when he realises it will be difficult, but still, I watch from a distance in admiration because it takes great courage to be knocked down and get back up, facing the same creatures that threatened to take your life, but seeing them in a new light. It is a good thing, a loving thing.

His second attempt is surprisingly successful, the rope coming down around the horse to pull it out of the wild. "You made that look easy," I say with delight in my voice—I need it to fight off the despair.

I look up to the sky: sun ablaze, the ground dry under its spell. There's nothing sick in the air anymore, I can breathe as I want without feeling like I am inhaling a toxin or poison. I can only sense life, not death, the echo of what was shouted to the world when Zion took his final breath only moments ago. We have managed to restore some calm in this storm, and even if it doesn't last long at all, I'm grateful.

This is my opportunity to try and show the same courage as Berlin. I have not been knocked down as he has, not like Zion has, but I stand in harm's way armed only with a rope. My heart races but I'm not scared, I'm not scared at all, it beats when I look at the horses: beautiful and majestic. They are exactly what the world needs, and I only have love for them. "Aren't they pretty?" 

The rope is thrown into the air—a better air, a better sky, a sky with eyes that have seen death just as I have, a sky that no shadow can touch.