Selene

I don't know how long I floated adrift
on the sea. Time undulated like the waves,
like the circular ripples of foam my fingers
traced in the water. I think I was a fish.
Then came the wooden planks tied
into a raft and the shore. The sand was like
shards of glass under my tender feet.
Everything hurt here: the wind, the sun,
the sharp bark of trees that I climbed every day
for fruit, cutting my chapped skin, stinging red
raw. My only peace was night. I slept in a shallow
pool on a bed of blue seaweed, rocked by
the rhythm of the waves, kept company by
the changing silver moon. I dreamed
I was a fish. Time measured herself
by sundial, by hatch marks on stone. Then
they found me. They wore heavy clothes
and lived in boxes. They taught me to sit still,
to stare at a black board, to stand and kneel,
to recite, to respect the invisible rules
of their society, to honor the round numbered
machine that orders the day. I forgot I was
a fish. I cried at night, lying in dry starched
sheets like a corpse. I longed for the silver orb
glowing through my window, though I didn't know
why. One day I ran away, all the way to the ocean.
I wanted to be a fish again. I wanted to dive off
the cliff into the green blue foam. An old woman
stopped me. She said, "It is not yet time. If
you jump in all at once after being dry
like sand for so long, you will die." She
led me to a forest and sent me on a quest.
She said, "You must scatter all the stones
you carry once you know their names."
"I carry no stones," I said. At that moment
my arms became loaded with rocks and sacks of
stones hung on my shoulders and neck.
She continued: "Second, you must tell the birds
and other creatures all your secrets." "But
I have no secrets," I murmured, and the old
woman smiled and went on. "Finally, you
must bathe in the forbidden pool in the
center of the world." "But I do not know
the way." She beckoned towards the forest,
and then she was gone. The forest was dark
and cold and there was no path in sight. I
obeyed the woman, lugging the weight
until a word glimmered on a stone. It said,
"shame." I dropped it at the foot of a tree,
my burden a little lighter. I wandered in the dark,
tossing aside stones bearing my fear, my guilt,
my judgement, my regret. When I threw away the heavy
stone of thought, light finally broke
through to the depths of the forest. I could see
the twining vines and the veins in the leaves.
A red macaw perched on a low branch and tilted
his head to listen. "I want to love" I whispered
in his ear. He flew away, his red wings ablaze,
and for the first time in many long days, I
smiled. I told a pale green lizard with intelligent
eyes, "I want to dance." I told the insects
and birds and scurrying creatures: "I want to fly!
I want to climb a mountain! I want to heal
the sick. I want to sing songs to children at dusk
by the light of the fire. I want to live forever.
I want to be a fish again." I realized it was
all true. With my burden scattered among tree
roots and my secrets flying on birds' wings,
I became content, quiet. The trees were rustling,
rustling, whispering, and after a while,
I noticed it was speech. "This way," the trees
beckoned, tall and humming with ancient wisdom,
with life. "We will see you again," they murmured,
gently pushing me down a path. Hidden
in a dense grove in the full moonlight, people:
women, men, and children walked towards a silver pool.
They took off their clothes and waded into the water,
immersing themselves and laughing, their voices
like music. I followed. The water was alive
with energy. It penetrated my body; I felt it seep
into my bones. Above me I saw colored lights
twinkling like purple and blue fireflies.
The lights had human faces and transparent
wings. Some of the people around me stepped
out of the pool, and I saw that they were no
longer people but half-horses with strong
flanks and hindquarters. They frolicked
under the stars. There were goat-men and bird-
women, and in the pool with me I saw one with
a fish's tail. I looked down and saw my own legs
were gone, replaced by beautiful scales shining
like emeralds and turquoise and other precious
stones. I felt complete. I talked with the other one
like myself, but I don't remember what we said. As
dawn approached, the creatures slid out of the water
and glided down from the sky. They shook the sacred
drops from their hair, feathers, scales, and wings,
becoming fully human again. They dressed
and walked back to the villages and towns
from which they came. I too left the water and returned
to my town on my human legs, feeling melancholy,
awed, refreshed. The next day I saw strangely
familiar faces in the stores, on the street, and a
strange man winked at me and smiled as he
bought a newspaper. Then I remembered, he
had been a centaur wearing a crown of flowers
that moonlit eve. I saw the old woman selling
flowers; her face had been a fairy's face
just a few hours ago. Every night I returned
to the pool. Sometimes I would be alone; sometimes
during the full moon, the grove was full of revelers.
Time passed. I grew. I learned.
I learned I could live in the town in the heat
of the sun as long as I had the night. When
I was old enough to live on my own, I moved
to the outskirts and made a home in a warm cave surrounded
by trees and a stream from the sacred pool. I sold
healing herbs, and flowers, and baskets woven
by hand. I made friends with animals and eased
babies into this world. At times I found my arms
full of new stones to throw away before
I could find the pool. I had new dreams to tell;
some came true, and some did not. Now
I am old but my heart is young.
My head is full of memories and my eyes
are pure blue water, the salt of the sea.
I am old, but not so very old. When it is
time, I will walk back to that cliff and
dive into the green, foamy sea, and
I will not die. I will become a fish.
The old woman was right.