Mary E.Pearson

Journey’s end. The promise. The hope.

Tell me again, Ama. About the light.

I search my memories. A dream. A story. A blurred remembrance.

I was smaller than you, child.

The line between truth and sustenance unravels. The need. The hope.

She commanded, and the light obeyed. The sun, moon, and stars knelt and rose at her touch. Once upon a time …

Write it down, he had told me.
Write down every word once you get there,
Before the truth is forgotten.
And now we do, at least the parts we remember.