Why was he late? He had promised. Promised never to hurt her. In being so late it worried her, making her heart ache. That was enough hurt to break a promise, was it not?
She had waited for him for years, holding onto the hopes and dreams of his word to return to her. The date had been set since before he left. Four years since the day of his leaving, he would return, to meet her in this very place, where the water flowed under the bridge. It seemed he was not going to show. She had waited all day for him, cried and tried to hold onto her splintering hope. It was heart wrenching. In her mind she knew he would not return to her. But her heart told her other wise. She wished to follow her heart. Begged and pleaded that it was right. That she would see her love once more. She had to, needed to.
As the sun sank ever lower over the water, blazing it with a look of fire, and the moon began to take its place, a shadow loomed over the horizon. But it was not the same as the one she had seen leave her those years ago. Dread, fear, and sorrow. Those where the only things she could feel. Her heart froze and she knew it to be broken. This man was a worrier, but not the one she had hoped to see. Loss kept her in place as he came towards her.
He spoke not a word but hung his head in grief. He was gone. The war had taken her only love from her. She closed her eyes and wept the silent tears of her sorrow upon the bridge. “Seri, beloved, forgive me...” The words seemed to echo in her mind. A fleeting passage of his soul, come to say its last farewell to her. He was gone then, gone to the world that she knew. Onto a world far better then the one she stood upon.
“You have no need for forgiveness. I embrace your life, beloved, all that you were and all that you remain.” With this she took a deep breath, wiped away her tears and began her way home. To the one thing in this world that was part of her life with that man. To his child, to her child.
But in the silent heart there is sorrow the eyes can’t see. And sorrow would always be there with his passage. But along with it there would be the knowledge that she had gotten to say her goodbyes, even if it was just a fleeting moment of a passing soul. Such a pure soul, as to be allowed to say goodbye when others would not.
And so it was that the meeting was never complete. Though the water under the bridge continued to flow so freely, so pure in its self. As if it was the living mirror of such a pure soul. A reminder to all that is good. That in death there is life. Such pure water nurtures the soul in a way to bring such life forth to us. Upon the smoothly flowing water that is life, travels the purest of white water lily's that are our people. The purest of souls.
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