Come, Draw Closer
By: Turtlewoman
Rating: G
March 1999

They stood watching him. He was the only one who had moved forward into the light. "Come, draw closer to the fire."

"It's too hot. I hate it when it flames up wildly."

"It won't flame any higher. It's burned beyond that point. Soon it will be down to embers, warm and comforting embers. It won't be too hot. Come, draw closer to the fire." He sat, leaning against a rock and stared into the ebbing flames. Shadows jumped and danced about him, their flickerings, like fingers, drawing everyone forward, toward the flames. A few at a time they came, each settling around the fire. She slipped in next to him, close, barely not touching.

He stared into the flames, "It's been like this, you know, like the bonfire."

"Oh? How so?"

He smiled.

"Nuts! I walked right into that, didn't I? You're going to tell an ancient story from your people that you will make up as you go along, aren't you?"

Chuckling, his eyes warm and comforting, he replied, "Something like that, yes."

More drew closer to the fire and to him, arranging themselves to hear his story.

"In a tribe, in a far place, lived a young man. He was well liked by his companions and very talented in the ways of his people. His father was a powerful man and in reflection, the son was afforded that power also. When he was new to the tribe, he basked in this love and acceptance. As he grew older, however, this began to chaff. He did not always understand his father, nor agree with him. More and more the ways of his people began to irritate him. Increasingly he and his companions would become uncomfortable and angry with one another. He would leave them then, going off into the hills, refusing them himself. His anger continued to grow. One day he left for good. But this is not his story. He went on and found his own way. This is the story of the tribe he left behind."

He heard shuffling around him as they recognized where he was taking them. Some pulled away from each other, others moved closer. She shifted until her thigh rested lightly against his. She looked at him, willing him to continue and supporting him with her eyes.

"At first when he became angry and would leave, his companions would continue the argument, each becoming hotter. Then he would return and they would all relax, picking up their play or work where they had been dropped in the heat of the argument. As time went on though, people began to withdraw. No one wanted to be the cause of a misunderstanding, no one wished to be the target of the argument and many did not wish to be involved a pattern that seemed to reap no benefit. Days, weeks and months passed in this fashion. When he finally left for good, he left behind silence and tension. The tribe had become unsure of each other, unwilling to hurt or anger each other and too tired of all of it to push through the silences. They were polite. Occasionally one or the other would come forward with a comment or a story. The tribe would cradle these, savoring the words, but the easy, fluid banter that was such a part of their lives had ceased.

Spring flowed politely into summer and summer politely into autumn. Politely they worked together to clean the fields of the barren, dry stalks. All of the wilted and barren stems, empty stalks and bits and pieces of wood were thrown into a huge pile. They worked the day through and into the night. The weather spoke of coming rain and the dross from the gardens needed to be burned and the ashes spread upon the fields. The people of the tribe stood around as the flames shot sparks and smoke into the sky.

One of them watched as the sparks rose toward the stars. She sighed, "I wish we could hitch our troubles to the sparks and send them heavenward on the smoke."

Her friend turned and stared at her long and hard. "That's it! We need a way to reach each other again. Let's do it." She stepped forward, small stick in hand. She threw it into the fire and said loudly, "Little sister spark, take my anger away, ride it upon this trail of smoke. Leave me peace in the ashes!" She stepped back, looking at her friend.

Her friend smiled, picked up a twig and stepped up to the fire. "Little sister spark, take away my hurt, ride it upon this trail of smoke. Leave me comfort in the ashes."

One by one, each one of the tribe stepped to the fire and delegated a trouble to the stars and asked for its opposite to rise from the ashes."

He finished his tale, then stood, looking at his companions. He picked up a twig and threw it into the fire. "Sadness ride to the heavens and leave us joy." He sat down again.

She took up a stick saying, "Resentment ride to the heavens and leave us forgiveness." She threw it into the fire.

Another and another of the crew threw in a stick, each healing the other with a word: kindness, acceptance, peace, happiness, harmony, love, laughter.

They lapsed into silence again. A tall man, with light brown curls, or what was left of them, stretched his legs out in front of him, loosening long tight muscles. "So," he said, "anybody remember the marshmallows?"

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