Waiting for the Call

An Imagining, inspired by a black bird

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The cooling dampness of the long grass is surprising. The sun sits low in the sky, warmth mostly absent in these strange lands. After the burst of energy, the peacefulness feels out of place, at odds with the noise in the background. Sounds that were magnified moments ago seem muted now. I feel an unexpected weightlessness. Lying back, cradled in the lush green carpet of the hill we had rushed up a short while before, I remember the surge of adrenaline as we roared our collective purpose. My sons are beside me. I chased them up the slope, excited to share this moment. We tumbled one after another, laughing joyously even as we fell. I feel them on either side of me. I want to talk but no sound comes. Perhaps just knowing they are there is enough. No words are needed. The story is already written. I look to the sky, the wide open sky. The strong boughs of the tree on the horizon make me think of the powerful arms of the young men fallen beside me. The bird perches, watching the unfolding scene, ready to play its part. With my last breath, I ask the black bird, ‘Oh messenger of Odin, send Valkyries to carry my sons with me to Valhalla’.

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I am indebted to Poonit5 for the writing prompt