The Prophets(48)

By the time they collapsed into each other just past the barn entrance, dust scattering as they fell, to the dreary people watching they looked like two ravens who had the nerve to become one.





Balm in Gilead

Maggie held a pail of river water. She knew the well water would be too sweet. The river would have a bit of salt in it, and any healing comes first through hurt before it makes it to peace. That was a terrible thing, she knew. Yet there was nothing truer. She knew it was why so many people saw no point, didn’t have the resolve to make it through, and got stuck. A sucking mud. The sinking kind. There were a lot of people there. Knee-deep. Some submerged. Some clawing their way to solid ground. How few would make it.

The water would sting when they, she and the women, washed Isaiah and Samuel. But there was no way around it. Opened up as they were, anything even delicate would feel raw. And what wasn’t bleeding was blistered, mercy, which meant that every touch would be a trial. She was impressed that they had made it back to the barn on their own, smashed into each other like warm hands, gentle but firm, quiet as a prayer, and just as plodding.

Maggie called for them: Essie, Sarah, Puah, and Be Auntie. There were supposed to be seven, but five was the next best thing. North, South, East, West, and Center, all represented, but there would be no one to balance the over and the under, to safeguard the light and the dark, to beat the drums for the call to the beyond as they did their work. Maggie couldn’t risk calling anyone else in; they would be a hindrance. Maybe not maliciously, but because of their ignorance, which she didn’t have the time or will to correct. Inviting Be Auntie was already pushing it. Be had already planted a willful betrayal and seemed to take pleasure in knowing where it was buried. But she also knew things happening in Empty that not even Maggie knew. Knowledge was a strength even when it hurt. So Be Auntie’s talents were necessary.

Maggie waited at the entrance of the barn as her word traveled around Empty via a beautiful little girl she wished wasn’t so beautiful. Hair too aglow. Eyes too bright. Skin too shimmery. Laugh too dainty. Teeth too pearly. It was only a matter of time. See? That was why she didn’t like children. Their very existence foretold. They were walking warnings of the impending devastation. They were the you before you knew misery would be your portion. She was dreading having to be a witness yet again, a healer yet again. Damn it all!

She turned and looked inside the barn. Her eyes followed the trail of red droplets right to the soles of Samuel and Isaiah’s feet. She shook her head. She didn’t climb on that wagon, but she was among the crowd. Her pitiful gaze doing nothing except making them feel more ashamed probably. But it was all she could offer at the time. Now she would make another offering to compensate for the disgrace.

Be Auntie came first. Maggie could tell by her step that she came more out of curiosity, just plain nosiness, that seeing The Two of Them like this would give her a tale to carry back to Amos. She walked with a quick step, hands tense, back hunched, body leaning to the left, neck craning, face protruding, mouth slightly parted, eyes wide like she wanted to see.

“You call me, Maggie?”

“Yes’m. Gon’ need you.”

“Them two?” Be Auntie said, pointing inside the barn.

“Don’t point. But mm hm. Yes’m.”

“I don’t know if Amos . . .”

“Fuck Amos!” Maggie said slightly louder than she intended. She raised her face a bit and looked Be Auntie in the eye. “Ain’t that what you doing.” She inhaled. “Smells like it and smells don’t lie. So please don’t come to me with his consideration when you giving him enough of your’n. He part to blame for this. And if you love him like your blushing tell me, if making a plum fool of Essie ain’t enough to bring you to your senses, you could at least do something to clean the mess you contributing to with your severed tongue and bended knees.”

Be Auntie bowed her head and nodded.

Essie arrived next, moving a bit quickly in her approach. Puah soon followed. Sarah took her time, hesitated before she got to the gate. And once she seemed to talk her herself into moving past it, she walked slowly, like she held a grudge against her own feet and everything they touched.

Maggie greeted each of them at the barn door. She raised a hand, palm forward, and looked at each woman, individually, acknowledged them with a nod and a smile. She folded her hands behind her back.

“I thank you womens for making your way here to this place where we are called to remember and bring forth something out of the dark.” She took a breath. “We all suffer; ain’t no doubting that. But surely we can have some say over how long and what shape it take. Am I lying?”

All of the women shook their heads.

“Now, I know usually this is for us. This ain’t for nobody else’s eyes but ours. No ears are supposed to hear this and goodness knows that what leaves our mouths is for the benefit of the circle only.”

“How it’s supposed to be,” Sarah said.

“Yes’m.” Be Auntie nodded.

Essie didn’t know what to do with her hands. Puah stretched her neck to peer inside the barn.

“I tell y’all this because it the way we have to begin. Don’t matter if you know it already. A long line of womens before us did this work. Used to be men too, until they forgot who they was. Something about men make them turn they back. Don’t ask me what. Wanting nature to bend to they will, I reckon. And there was others, too, but they been split from us. Cast out and forced to be the body and not the spirit. I know because Cora Ma’Dear told me and she never did lie, not even when truth was the death of her.” She paused and looked at the ground before looking out to the field and seeing her grandmother standing there with a light in her mouth. She waved. “But I think we can all come to agreeance that The Two of Them might rightly fit for our blessing.”