Like Water on Stone (13 page)

Read Like Water on Stone Online

Authors: Dana Walrath

BOOK: Like Water on Stone
9.43Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
Sosi
I pull Mariam back to the stream.
Moonlight cuts through the trees,
lighting a clear white path in the water
rushing through the stone.
Oh, Mama, my Mama,
are you making
dolma
?
I’ve got the pot.
Papa, my Papa,
plucking the
oud
.
Misak and Kevorg
white from the mill.
Anahid, my sweet sister,
has your new baby come?
I hope it’s a girl.
Girls don’t leave.
I can hold your baby in my arms
and breathe in
the pure, sweet smell
from the top of her head
that I remember
from baby Mariam.
I put down the pot.
I pick up my sister.
I bury my face
in her stale, knotted hair.
Shahen can go to America
by himself.
I must go where
Vahan can find me.
I pick the pot up
and turn to the north.
We’re going home.
Shahen
I fly down the stream bed,
searching each stone
for the place
where we turned
and they waited.
But I can’t find the place
and the moon is too high.
I cannot call out.
Back in the village
those men,
they might hear me.
I cannot call out.
How can I find them?
Strong, bright moon,
help me, please.
Help me
find them.
A large bird
flies over me,
not an owl
or a bat.
It’s a day bird,
an eagle,
out at night
like me.
Sosi
Without Shahen
night sounds grow.
Mariam heavy
like a sack of milled wheat,
the pot like a stone.
I follow the light in the stream
back to home.
More night sounds:
wind,
footsteps,
breathing.
Ours?
Shahen said,
“If I do not come back,
they’ll be looking for you.”
He said,
“Go fast.”
Stomp.
Stomp.
I go fast.
Back to home.
With the light
down the stream,
back to home,
where I’ll find them
waiting for me.
The eagle passes over us,
then turns and comes toward us,
flying upstream
as we go down,
coming close to my head,
the strong flap of wings
beating like the
dumbek
and a strange whistling sound,
its cadence starting high,
then gliding down and fading,
like someone begging.
Again he comes over us
and makes a tight turn,
his beating wings and whistle
filling my ears.
But I won’t turn around.
We’re going home.
Shahen
I’ve gone past the place
where we turned,
I am sure,
so I retrace my steps
on each stone,
going slow
till I see it.
I missed it before:
a pile of stones
in a heap
at the stream,
left just for me
by my Sosi.
I leave the water’s edge
and turn into the woods
till I find the soft spot
where they waited.
And there on the ground
where my sisters once sat
is a cross of two sticks
tied with red thread
pointing north.
North!
Sosi, no.
They will find you
and kill you.
Not north.
Not the river.
Not the soldiers.
Not north.
There’s a bear in the sky.
Run away.
Run away.
Not into his claws
and his teeth.
Cross in my fist,
I run back
to the stream
as if the earth
is made of fire.
Step, step, step, step,
breath, breath, breath, breath,
step, step, step, step.
Then from that steady pulse
I hear it in my mind,
baron
Kaban’s
duduk
winding
da dee da dee da dee, daaa, da da dee da
da dee da dee da dee, daaa, da da dee da
,
the drum pulsing,
the
Alashkerdi kochari
calling me into a line of men
shoulder to shoulder.
Step,
hey,
step,
hey,
step,
hey,
step,
hey,
our call back to the drum
syncopated,
the drum pushing my steps,
the
duduk
winding
da dee da dee da dee, daaa, da da dee da
.
Step,
hey,
step,
hey,
step,
hey,
step,
hey,
faster and faster,
all in a line
we shift
into double time.
I fly across the earth.
Wings whoosh.
Eagle flies low
over streambed,
moon striking
his feathers,
and talons fierce.
Sosi
I hear footsteps
coming after us.
Stomp.
Stomp.
Coming.
Purple light washes through the sky.
Stars fade.
I’m not fast.
I must hide us.
Stomp.
Stomp.
Quiet, Mariam.
Stomp.
Stomp.
Closer,
breathing.
Stomp.
Stomp.
My eyes
close tight,
my grip on Mariam
tight as my eyes.
We do not breathe.
Stomp.
Stomp.
They’re coming.
I want to go home but I can’t.
It’s over.
Stomp.
Stomp.
Coming closer.
My eyes are shut tight.
My arms firm,
squeezing Mariam
to my chest.
But she squirms
and she breaks
from my arms.
I cannot hold her back.
They will shoot her.
How will I tell Mama?
I hug the pot to my gut.
I pray they shoot me first.
Someday, Mama
will meet me in heaven.
I hope I can tell her
they shot me first.
Then she will tell me
what happened with the goat.
I open my eyes
to see,
to tell Mama
about my end.
I see Shahen,
Mariam
in his arms,
coming
to pick me up too.
Shahen
“Sosi, you fool!
What were you thinking?
Don’t ever go north.
There are bears in the north,
hungry from sleeping
and raising their cubs.
They wait by the river.
The bears, they will eat you.
You’re running right into their
mouths.
Don’t ever go north.
Papa said to go south.
I said to go.
Listen to me.
I’m the man here.
Listen to me.
No more north.
Promise me.
No more north.
No more.
No.”
Sosi nods.
“Good.
“You went fast.
But I caught you.
I caught this for you.
See what I have?
Bastegh
basturma
bread
cheese
nuts
halva
.
Eat, sweet sister,
eat.
“Os, os, os
,
little Marig,
you were good,
you saw me.
You saw me.
We have food now.
A kind mother gave us food,
dense food.
It will stick to you like I do.
It will keep you warm.
It will give us many days
to go south
to Aleppo.
Never go north.
Never.
“Eat, sweet sister,
eat.
“North there is nothing.
Never was.
Nothing.”
DAY 41
Mariam
Sosi gives me
a piece of cheese,
some flat bread,
so many nuts,
a big piece of spicy
basturma
,
a piece of shiny
bastegh
like Mama’s,
and a piece of sweet, sweet
halva
.
I fly through the woods
to Aleppo.
DAY 42
Mariam
Sosi gives me
a piece of cheese
some bread
some nuts
basturma
bastegh
.
No
halva
today.
The hard bread
turns soft and sweet
in my mouth.
DAY 43
Mariam
Sosi gives me
five small pieces of cheese,
each of them wrapped
with a ribbon of
basturma
,
and
halva
for dessert.
The ribbons taste pretty.
I want more.
Sosi
Each day
I give Shahen
some of my share.
He must stay strong
to carry Mariam
when she tires.
I carry the pot.
His eyes like
a prison guard’s
follow me
always.
These gifts
he does not see.
DAY 44
Mariam
Sosi gives me
three pieces of cheese,
only three,
very small,
and three large nuts,
each of them wrapped
with a ribbon of
bastegh
.
Sleepy
me.
Shahen
I should have asked
the mother for more
or taken it.
She had more,
plenty more.
I could have carried more,
much more.
But it looked like so much
when she gave it to me.
Almost gone now.
No going back.
And would Sosi stay
if I went
for food
again?
DAY 45
Mariam
Sosi gives me
two small pieces of cheese,
two nuts,
and one thin piece of
basturma
.
No ribbons.
She tells me
halva
again
tomorrow.
I eat slow.
I walk slow.
DAY 46
ENGIZEK MOUNTAIN
Mariam
Sosi gives me
one nut,
one thin piece of
bastegh
,
and a bite of
halva
.
No cheese,
no bread,
no
basturma
,
no Mama,
no Papa,
no.
DAY 47
Mariam
Sosi gives me
one big nut,
one thin piece of
basturma
,
and one tiny pinch of
halva
.
Shahen carries me.
My wings won’t flap.
DAY 51
AHIR MOUNTAIN
Shahen
We each eat
one last pinch of
halva
,
and the food
from the mother
is gone.
This bare mountain
offers nothing but stones,
steep stones to climb
and small stones like candies
that would break our teeth,
already soft in our swollen gums,
if we dared to take a bite.
The night eagle soars above us.
His strange whistle
blends with the wind.
It’s colder as we climb
above the tree line.
More wind,
the smallest sliver of moon,
almost set.
Mariam
tied to my back
with the cloth
from the mother,
emptied of food,
gone
to feed our bellies.
Mariam heavy
even with no food.
She warms my back.
Sosi carries the pot,
heavy,
empty.
This must be the last one,
the last mountain,
this must be.
Father Manoog’s maps
still shine the way to the top
in my mind.
I want the crumbs
from his beard
here with me now.
Soon the sky will open.
We will see
through the desert
to Aleppo.
If we were goats
scrub grass would fill us.
Our hooves could grab rocks.
But I’m not a goat
and I slip.
I fall.
“Sosi!”

Other books

Fair Exchange by Jennifer Smethurst
Jesus' Son: Stories by Denis Johnson
Hot Silk by Sharon Page
On the Beach by Nevil Shute
Freeze Tag by Cooney, Caroline B.
The Brigadier's Daughter by Catherine March
Born Wild by Julie Ann Walker