Spring 2012 Stylus

breath. Her hands—warped wood—trembled.

“The world was no good back then, Yahzi.” She paused and inhaled the whole desert; sand, cacti, the mountains, the purple sky and the stars. “A secret, forbidden love bore your Shizhe’e. We knew how wrong it was to hide our love as if we were ashamed.” She spit the last word out with detest, exhaling the landscape with a rumbling roar. The anger punctured ever word. “But it was too dangerous. The men with the stamped papers would come and people would disappear. My Shiye, my beautiful Shiye would not be taken from me, even if that meant he could not know who I was.” She stopped and moved her hands to her lap. Those eyes darting faster and faster now.

“Your Sicheii and I fought over it. He wanted to take them on. He wanted the whole world back then. ” There was a smile on her lips. It made her seem young for a moment.

“I didn’t listen. Stubborn as old rabbit, I returned to the home I was born into. Took up my place on the porch, remembering. That was what my family had done for generations. Remembered. The centuries of injustice and repression we were not allowed to forget. It is who we are. It is our curse and one day it will be our blessing. One day the world will know.” The raspy voice trailed off.

“He was like you, Yahzi. Unsure of who he was. Pulled to me.”

She stopped and tapped her heart. Her words were so slow, they clung to the air. “A night like this, he came. I did not need to tell him.

He knew. He was my Shiye.”

I nodded, pressing my eyes closed, trying to stop myself from pouring out everything that was inside.

“I’m afraid Badu,” I stammered. “I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to disappear.” She lifted her spindly hand—rivers in her skin— and touched my face. They were so warm. Slowly, like a ghost, she turned her face towards mine. Those golden fish stood still beneath the veiled lids.

“Miakoda.” There was tenderness in her voice. “Power of the moon.” I reached up and touched her eyelids. The little golden fish swimming—darting—floating passed like a pulse beneath my fingertips. She moved my fingers away softly.

“You stay here, and you’ll disappear into the desert. You leave and it will be your ocean.”

Her dark lashes opened like a flower in the night—a golden Evening Promise. The two fish swam like fireflies through the soundless air. They hovered for a moment, before sliding into my eyes, blinding me. I beheld what I had always known. What I was born 115