Water Lilies

(April 2010)

Water Lilies

          Out on the lake lay a cluster of night lilies. They bore enchanted flowers shaded white and blue upon the deep green of their pads, and a gentle aroma—sweeter than that of Osmanthus pollen—floated from within the depths of their scented bottoms. All the while the waters of the lake lapped upon the shore, glistening in the starlight. The lilies swayed back and forth in the tide, captivating my senses.

          I had found myself at the waters to contemplate the events of my life. A long sense of nostalgia claimed my being, and I wished for other times. I became lost staring at a stone before me. Memories of yore raced across my mind, bringing to me forgotten days I could never experience again. A tear made its way upon my cheek, and I sat still for hours lost.

          An owl bayed in the distance, wrenching my mind from its forlorn tendencies. I looked up from the rock I had been so intent upon. The owl’s voice echoed in the darkness, and I gazed across the lake to spy its source. The pale reflection of glinting eyes unraveled themselves from the trees, and their silver nature reminded me of the mercury which dripped from the trees into the lake before me. Only they were ornamented with the dew of fresh raindrops that caught the glowing essence of the stars. The owl hooted again and turned its neck, and my interest wandered from the nocturnal creature.

          My attention became drawn to the boat upon the shore. I climbed into its wooden confines and pushed off into the waters with a splintered oar. And I rowed to the lilies. And as I rowed, a coalition of fish teemed alongside my vessel. Some reflected light from their metallic scales, whereas others reflected only the night from black bodies. So a dazzling light show, unpredictable in its display, followed my lead over to those lilies.

          Was it the night that compelled me to steer toward them, they with their long supple pads? Was it the inclination the silence sold when the crickets lapsed into quiet encore? Was it my lonesome ways that drove me, striving to gather the remains of hope that lingered in their beauty? Or was it a combination of these things, perhaps along with others unknown?

          I did not know, nor did I care. All that I knew was that the green pedestals holding the flowers were drawing closer.

          A burst of air eased toward my direction. Cattails bent to and fro, dipping their heads into the lake, creating an array of ripples that signaled outward as delicate waves. The smell of the lilies mixed with the cool must of the waters, and beautiful grasses entangled regions nether. The moon joined the starlight as a cloud dissipated its mask.

          It stood as a thin crescent, thrusting curved rays down upon the horseshoe cove the lilies begot. When the moon shed its skin, the fish about me dove to depths untenanted, smothering their technicolor display. I was left with just the company of my oar, and I plunged it forcefully into dark liquids, and I was propelled into that horseshoe cove with such ferocity that my splintered paddle collapsed against the strain. And I watched as my boat swam away from the detached bill.

          The tip of my boat sunk into one of the lily’s pads driving my attention to my destination. I raised myself from the seat I had made to stand staring at the forest of water plants before me. With one of my hands I brushed it against the fine stalks of grasses interspersed at the rim of the scene. Their soft touch did much to undo the rough, rigid fibers of the oar. The owl hooted in the darkness, yet I was so engrossed with the weeds that I did not take notice.

          And then a frog burped. And my vision swung to its source.

          The frog was sitting on a large pad with a marvelous flower that glowed in the moonlight. Without thinking, I took a step from the boat onto the leaf in which it bit, and the pad fell to my weight. And I found myself submerged in liquid water.

          My mind raced; my feet kicked; my arms wailed; I gasped, hungering for air. I fell deeper into the waters, and as I did so, a calm bestowed itself upon my being. My eyes were open, and I saw one of the black fish swim pass. More followed, and starlight intermixed with the twilight as the silver hides of others darted by. And then I realized I could see with crystal clarity the confines of the water.

          I realized I had fallen to the floor of the lake, and I stood upon my feet. A scallop swept past my vision, munching water as it swam. I followed its movement and beheld the great stalks of the lilies. I grasped one of them with my hands and journeyed my way to the top, whereupon I collapsed upon its enormous pad. Energy drained from my body, and I dreamt.

          A man framed the scene, silhouetted against a bright background. A shadowed hand picked me up, and he asked, “Do you like yourself?” Despite not being able to see his face, I knew he was staring straight at me into my eyes. I answered: “No.”

          Darkness enfolded, and a crescent sun flared into the sky. Red-orange flames danced about its face.

          I awoke to the hum of a frog; it was the same one as before. I watched its breast palpitate, stretch and dwindle, as it let go mighty croaks that sounded as hammers in my ears. A confusion clasped my mind, and I strove to break its spell—I lunged at the frog to tear the life from it.

          The frog leapt of reach and into the flower adorning the pad. I looked within the petals and beheld no frog, only the sweet nectar that grew inside. Where did it go? If that wasn’t confusion enough, the flower began to rise.

          The stem tapered upward, reaching for the nighted heavens, winding and gently unfolding as it bore to lofty planes. The moonlight radiated heavily, beating at my skin with the resolve of a desert sun. Sweat poured from my brow. The starlight, too, beamed as a carpet of relentless eyes, fueling its growth. Spiraling, my gaze followed its path until the point where the flower dug itself into the pocket of the moon’s crescent.

          I spied a petal waving downward, uncaught by wind, luminescent and ethereal in the night’s light. And then it fell upon the waters of the lake and drowned within their depths. More such petals descended from the heavens, each subtly different, showering me as resplendent snowflakes the size of large hands, gripping the terrain with lustrous zeal.

          The flowers of the unrisen lilies seemed to coo as a breeze swept across the lake. The lips of the flowers pursed open and closed, and I began to fancy a soft chorus flowing from their mouths. They sang of ascension. They told me to climb.

          I gripped the stalk of the great lily and bore to the heavens. Water dripped from my clothes, joining the cascade of petals, and soon real rain precipitated from the skies. Clouds had amassed above. My hands felt as oil to the stem, but a strength I did not know I had stole upon me, and up I continued into that skyward realm.

          The cover of fog and cloud was now upon me, and a still ambiance enveloped my mind. I had reached the summit of my climb, and the flower splayed its girth in order to best catch the wispy residue of mist. Through the gray atmosphere, I made out the imprint of the moon’s incandescent sickle. It seemed to loom over the flower, waiting to slice off its head. But it just kept its tilted grin, and the flower bent downward.

          And downward it went until I found myself nestled upon the shore of the lake. I let go of the stem, and it curled back into its heights, whereupon the baying of the owl sounded again. Only this time it sounded unnaturally close until I realized I had fallen upon the opposite end of the lake. And I, for the first time, was able to see the lilies from behind. And a new reckoning was bestowed upon my spirit.