Bone Sky

The sky above me, the ground below. The ground was wide and flat and many. The sky was one. The sky had one eye for the day and another for the night. The night's eye opened and closed, opened and closed. Sometimes the night's eye wandered into the daylight and then was blue.

I saw this. I was Inma and I saw it.

I was with Tecli and Sella and Murram. We were in the green grass by the river, in the warm time. The day's eye shone on the water. There was much to eat.

Sella was round as the night's eye when the eye is wide open. Sella broke and a baby dropped out of her.

The baby was of all of us. We held him and carried him around, glad of him. We brought all our food first to Sella to eat of as she wished, and she ate much and gave herself to the baby.

I grew round as the night's eye. Sella saw this and hated me.

We were by the river, where the bank was high. We dug for turtles' eggs to eat. Tecli saw me. He gave me an egg to eat, that he had not given first to Sella. Sella spat on me. When Tecli gave her another egg, she flung it down.

Tecli gave me no more eggs. He turned his back to me. The others also turned away from me. Sella threw a rock at me and I ran away.

I went off by myself. I ate what I found for myself. It was the hot time, and the river was good with frogs and fish. I was cold at night. I was cold-- I was alone. I was alone. I sat on the ground under the night's eye and wept for my aloneness.

I followed after the others. I saw them far ahead in the green grass. At the circles of their fires I sat in the ash. Their fires were cold. I could smell the others but the smell was cold.

So the days went by, full and empty. By a cold fire, I found a bone hidden under leaves. The leaves smelled like Tecli. There was meat on the bone. Tecli had left food for me. I gnawed it until the meat was gone. I gnawed it when it was bare and dry, because Tecli had left it for me. I held it. I was cold. I was alone. The wind blew over me like an old bare bone.

I saw the night's eye. It was round and full like me. It watched me. I took a sharp stone. I made a mark on the bone, round like the night's eye.

In that day, I saw the others away down the river. I carried the bone with me, with that one little mark on it, alone, like me.

I ate mushrooms. With a stick, I dug plants and ate the roots. That night, I sat on the cold ground and the night's eye rose over me, and I thought of the bone. I made another mark beside it. When the day came, I looked at the bone and saw the two marks, side by side. I was glad. I was not alone anymore.

I went on by the river. I did not see the others or where they went. I ate what I could find for myself. I made marks on the bone, one each night, for the night's eye. When the night's eye began to close, I made the mark not so round. When the night's eye was all closed, I made a line.

I looked at the bone and saw the open eye. When the night's eye opened all the way, I looked at the bone and saw the closed eye. I held the sky in my hand.

I broke. Water ran down my legs. I squatted down, and a baby dropped out of me. He cried, and I laughed. I gave him of me to eat. I held him in one arm and the bone in the other. I laid them down, side by side on the soft grass, and saw that they were mine, I was Inma, and all was good.

In the morning, when the river smoked, I waded like a crane in the shallows, hunting frogs. In the evening, when the lions came down to the river's edge to drink, I climbed a tree, and I held the baby in the crook of one arm and the bone in my hand. When I woke, the night's eye watched me throught the branches of the tree.

I fed them both. I gave the baby of me, and he grew fat and round, and I gave the night's eye to the bone.

I saw smoke in the sky I went toward it and saw Tecli and Sella and Murram and the others, sitting by their fire. I went toward them. I was not afraid anymore. They saw me. They threw no rocks. They rose up and held out their hands to me. I went in among them. Sella was alone. No baby lay in her arms. Her arms hung down, long and empty. Her face hung, long and empty. I sat down with the others. I let them take my baby and hold him. I let them feed me.

I was one of them again. The baby was one of them. The bone was not. The bone was of me alone. I made no more marks on it, but I kept it by me all the rest of my days, and I let none of them hold it ever. I am Inma, and I have done this.

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(c) Cecelia Holland 1999