Day 13

The radiance of sunshine, beckoning the shadows to disappear from the makeshift tunnel I found solitude in the night before, stifled the lingering congestion of smoke-filled debris and dust, as I stumbled my way out. I was eager to bathe away the stains of defeat and a hardened heart; to allow the purity of the sun to strip and wash away the torments of a recent, yet piercing past. I believed in the generosity of the sun, in that its giving rays offered the miraculous gift of healing a spirit broken. I believed if I cloaked myself in its warmth, then somehow, the spirit of my hope could be restored.

Climbing to the top of a nearby collapsed and mangled building that met its fate thirteen days ago, I finally met the conviction of the sun. The power that seemed to infiltrate throughout each pore of my body, was extraordinarily majestic. Yet, knowingly, the sun distanced itself from a world poisoned with ensuing destruction. It was as if we were no longer deemed worthy of its gift of light, a sacred gift withheld from the earth for thirteen days. Since childhood, I would undoubtedly thirst for the resplendent exaltation of the sun’s grandeur. Even now, with arms outstretched, and eyes gently closed, I baptized myself in the sun’s luminescent rays.

A gentle breeze playfully teased through the coils of my obsidian hair, while I meditated on overshadowing the devastation of loss, with the tenderness of days old memories. Memories, impulsive and relentless in nature, hauntingly plagued my mind, and often, I would contest my efforts in battling away their sting. It was only thirteen days ago that my life was splendid and absolute. Still, situated atop of what appeared to be a once upon a time office building of downtown, I could find no resolution, nor absolution in all that had been—only what was, and the dreadful terror of everything that will be.

Rooted amid emanating euphoria, I could feel the essence of my flesh growing rich with pigmentation. Dashed with the invitation of fond and fleeting memories, I uttered the names of my family. Daily, I trusted that in saying their names aloud, I would never forget who they were, their memories, and at times I would find myself dreaming of the wind graciously carrying my love into the ears of their lost spirits. Through my closed whiskey-colored eyes, the glare of the sun momentarily faded away. I pleaded to taste the rays of the sun a while longer. I was in fact, a “Child of the Light” …at least those were the words my mother whispered to me, as her final breath escaped the lifelessness of her lips.

Just as an overcasting cloud of smoke met the zeal of the sun, the lingering air grew blistering with heat. Behind me, grew a glowing cascading inferno that rapidly brushed the sky with colored embers of fire: orange and white. Helplessly, I watched a few people scramble in their desperate attempt for shelter. With already crippled spirits, half of them remained, falling to their knees, clenching their hands in solidarity—just before vanishing forever.

I sat on the rubble of building beneath me. Tears conquered my eyes, and my throat swelled with words unspoken. Rage violently poured into me, pervadingly consuming all that I was, and all that I had left. “Why!”, I screamed. “Mama, what do you want me to do?”. Subdued and suffocated by defeat, I ruminated the last of my mother’s words. “Inara Cahira, you don’t know who you are…but I do. My fierce and steadfast daughter, your name means a beautiful warrior that will bear heaven’s torch, to light the path of people into salvation. Find the light in your heart, my love. From light you were born, and with light you shall conquer. You, Inara, are a Child of the Light.” Penetrated by her last words, I became enslaved in reflection. The more I reflected, the more the remaining stability of my life spiraled out of control, coerced in the clutches of confusion.

Thirteen days ago, my mother and I shared a piece of Ms. Emma’s butterscotch pie under the umbrella of a shady patio table. I was fond of butterscotch pie, and it was a treat to come to her restaurant. My mother met me here while on her lunch break, to jumpstart my seventeenth birthday celebration.

She was a beautiful woman. Her caramel complexion glistened in the hints of sunlight, that shown through the waves of leaves blown by gentle winds. Her rushing black curls stroked the long lashes of her hazel eyes. Her eyes were full of personality, as were her lips. Since losing my dad fifteen years ago to a brutal war, she was always noticed by men, and even women at times. Though I looked like her, our personalities were much different. She was kind, gentle, and loving. I, on the other hand, was the impetuous, argumentative, and wildly inappropriate type, but she patiently nurtured those unsubtle sides of me.

Playfully fighting over the last bite of pie, we could hear thunder off in a distance, as I succumbed to her amusing antics and gave in. As she joked for me to look away, while she ate the last piece of my pie, she had me close my eyes. Once instructing me to open them, she held a rectangular-shaped, velvet box wrapped in white ribbon. “See what happens when you let your mama have your last piece of pie? You get a gift!”, she laughed. “Go on…open it, Inara. This has been shared with every young woman on her seventeenth birthday for many generations in our family.” Carefully grabbing the gift from her soft hands, I opened the box, to find the delicacy of a large, silver-chained, antique, heart-shaped locket. Tenderly grasping the locket between my fingertips, I pulled apart the crevice, revealing a picture of my mother on the left, and an infant picture of she and I on the right. “Mama, this is beautiful! Old, but I still love it! I’ll keep it forever.” Laughingly, she said, “It’s very old, Inara, but keep it with you always. This is who you are and everything you and generations after you will become.” Fumbling it throughout my fingers, I felt something on the back. Turning it over, I could see inscriptions. “Mama, what’s this?”. She then took my hands into hers, and whispered, “Su ir o Auqa se Ira oiprocs, Ogriv sec sip arom ai sa ye ra e ya’at.” Confused, I placed the locket around my neck and asked, “In laymen terms?”. She had these words memorized in whatever language she spoke. “Inara, that’s the language of our people from centuries ago, and they mean, Blessed be the Summoner of Light, Deifying the heart of whose secrets and powers abide. Your life-source is within those words! There’s prophecy in those words, Inara, and after I go back to work, just know, by the time I get home…”.

She never made it home. I can only recall the moments she threw me down a nearby stairwell that led into the lobby of an abandoned subway. Waiting for my mother to complete her sentence, I can remember the sun reflecting larger and brighter in her eyes. She only just made it down the stairs, when a loud blast resembling the sound of a bomb went off. The blast triggered the collapse of the stairwell, causing the condemned structure to cave in. Helplessly, I stood, gasping for air as the charged particles of dust filled my burning lungs. I yelled for my mother over again. She never answered. I lifted smaller pieces of concrete just to look for signs of life. However, the longer I was underground the more the air became harder to breathe.

A small opening just above the collapsed matter appeared to be a way out. I knew I had to summon help. After climbing the rubble, careful not to tread over the last place she stood, I was finally out. Wiping fragments from my eyes, sheer and alarming terror paralyzed every core of my being. Tears began saturating my dust-filled blouse, and hyperventilation began to command my every action. Everything I had known and loved was perpetually incinerated into flakes of ashes. Buildings that stood tall in their majesty, were leveled to shreds of concrete and molten metal. Cars laid strewn on top of remnants of stores, while Ms. Emma’s restaurant had completely vanished—as if it never existed.

Smoke riddled with dust and torched debris continued its ascent into the once blue sky. With little energy remaining, I screamed for help, but there was no one. Exhaustingly, I cantered the evidence of a nearby street searching for any signs of life…until I nearly fell victim into a crater burned into the earth. Desperate to find my mother and render aid, I hurried back to the collapsed stairwell. Climbing back through the cluttered pieces of concrete, a hand, brittle and weak, grabbed the laces of my shoe. Startled, I realized it was her! Every ounce of my strength attempted to move the concrete slabs from her crushed and twisted body—I was powerless. “Mama! Is that you?”, I wept, just as she reached for my trembling hand and whispered her final words.

Wrestling to douse the flames of misplaced rage, I gathered the heart-shaped locket. Prying open its cleft, I was greeted by the tender face of my mother. Uncontrollable tears resituated upon my cheeks. Before I could wipe them away, tears flooded the pictures inside. Panic-stricken, I pleaded for the pictures to still be intact. Clutching the only piece of my mother I had left, I placed the locket next to my heart, and prayed. Even in prayer, the looming reminders of life’s sudden end, stained my faith. What remaining faith I did have was quickly spent. I had feasted on ears of scorched corn and the worms of an untouched patch of grass. Rain had not quelled the scorched city, and streams of water that formerly sparkled with subtle waves of thirst-quenching libations, were no more. I had no faith left.

Drawing back to the locket I had only pulled away from my fainting heart, an explosion impregnated the sky, ushering the heat of a thousand hells with it. The sky danced with glowing flickers of orange and white, devouring dense clouds in its path. This time was unlike the last small meteoroid that ravished the small gathering below me. Instead, this was proportional to the asteroid thirteen days ago…the one that swallowed everything in its path.

Atop of a wasted building, I stood erect, ready to embrace my fate, it was my time. With extended arms and palpitations coursing through my heart, I found my voice and screamed into the object of my destruction, “Blessed be the Summoner of Light, Deifying the heart of whose secrets and powers abide! I am the power of the light! I am prophecy fulfilled!” It was then that my body levitated into the crushing path of this enraged asteroid. Uncontrollably, I embodied raw, divine empowerment! This horror of destruction should have disintegrated my insignificance, yet our paths collided. Onlookers from below watched in fright, as the entirety of my body absorbed the purity of energy generating its engulfing core. My hair burned as white as the hottest fire in this otherworldly inferno. My body glowed brighter than the strength of an army of angelic beings. Just as I felt myself wavering to the authority of nature’s force, I could behold deceased loved ones gathering at my side, unifying their power with uttered incantations. My mother and father attended my side, and one by one, they ascended with me in the realms of a vibrant, fiery sky. Organically channeling their divinity, an explosion larger than before, devoured the corners of the earth. It was then, on this thirteenth day, that I came to know precisely, who I was.