The Reed’s Lament

Listen to the story told by the reed,
of being separated.

Since I was cut from the reed bed,
I have made this crying sound. 

 Jallaludin Rumi

I had loved you forever it seemed. Your glorious name was music, your dark liquid eyes a miracle, and the soft velvet of your flesh my home as you held me. I swear I had never lived before we met, never drew a breath as sweet as that from your lips. Forever. That’s how long I knew we’d live as one. Forever. How cruel is the world that wraps me in your arms, then drags me from you like a babe from its dying mother.

It happened like this.

You were gathering flowers like you always did, walking too close to the river’s edge that day. How I had warned you. Begged you not to tempt the water snakes that made their home there among the rushes and the reeds along the muddy banks.  The water snakes whose bite was worse than the quick and merciful death of the hangman. Whose death lasts many days of agony. But you didn’t listen. You never listened when I warned you. You just laughed and danced away defiantly.  I held your head in my lap. I wiped your brow and fed you cool water though you cursed me and demanded to know my name and how I came to be in your house. I wept as the fever burned you hot and red in my arms and your beautiful lips turned blue.

It happened like this.

Your death was a day of unbearable sadness for the whole village and your shroud was kissed by all. But I did not weep. That night, I buried you deep in the soft mud along the river’s edge where the water snakes make their home among the rushes and the reeds. I returned to our home to wait. The old woman would do the rest. On the morning of the fifth day after you were taken from me, I returned to the water’s edge and drew a fresh reed from the soft mud. I cut the holes along the shaft as the old woman had showed me. Then I used my knife to make the same holes into the soft flesh of my thigh. I drew forth the blood and rubbed it into the reed.  Making it strong and red.  I dried it in the light of a dozen candles as I said the dark and sacred words the woman had taught me. As I worked, I remembered our love. That night I heard the sad and sorrowful lament of the reed as it sings of lost love on the cool night breeze, I heard the lament of love as it came to me from the river’s edge. I picked up the red reed from the circle of candles and placed it to my lips. I played the tune the old woman had taught me.  Your sweet breath filled my lungs, and the song that swelled from the reed was your sigh upon the wind. Each night, our song filled the night air, and was answered by the soft cries and wails of the reeds along the river’s edge. They longed for your return.  But your song is so sad it drove me mad with grief. Your love was gone.  Your heartless weeping killed my soul. What had I done?

It happened like this.

I carried the red reed containing your soul down to the river’s edge.  To the place where the water snakes make their home among the rushes and the reeds. I waded deep into the water, pressing your soul to my lips. The poison from a hundred fanged mouths filled my blood as I carried you farther into the water and laid myself against the gentle lapping waves. The reeds have grown silent now. We can sleep as once we did, you and I, wrapped in each other’s arms.  We float forever amongst the rushes and the reeds.