The Hermit

The Hermit looked up at the encompassing black and felt the dread sinking to the pit of their stomach. The empty sky was an omen. A warning of consequences if the flame was never reignited. Fate rested on the Hermit’s shoulders and nothing could have prepared them for the long cold journey into the dark for the sake of the light. 

“We would not survive the winter without new light.” A young woman and her child fanned their last embers. “Thank you for your sacrifice, Sir.” The mother offered her scarf, with tears in her eyes. 

The Hermit silently shrugged as they took the thin, ragged and worn scarf, then went on their way. 

“We would wither in silence without new light.” An elderly man with bare feet scooted carefully along the frozen ground. “Bless you, Ma’am.” The man offered his boots with broken laces, a weary smile on his face. 

The Hermit nodded politely as they took the old boots, then quietly continued their way. 

The Hermit did not turn back to look behind them as they left their hometown. They imagined their neighbors lining the fence, watching the Hermit fade into the dark. They imagined their neighbors waving goodbye with hopeful grins, encouraging the Hermit to venture into the dangerous unknown. Instead, the Hermit kept their pace strong and steady, moving with purpose, keeping their eyes focused forward. 

The dark engulfed them quickly. The small flicker of light in their town was far in the distance; the glimmer unable to be carried very far. The Hermit’s eyes were open wide, searching for the land. Searching for familiarity. The Hermit’s breath had begun to quicken, their hands shook. 

Then the Hermit stopped. Fully paused in their steps. The Hermit took a sharp painful gulp of the brisk air and looked down at their feet. The old man’s boots were slightly too big and the treading was nearly bald. But the Hermit could feel the sturdiness; the years of work, the hard long days, the celebration of success and job well done. The Hermit felt the determination, the grind, the responsibility; they felt the endurance of this old man. 

Then, the Hermit could see again.

They looked forward and could see shadows of trees and the lightly snow dusted frozen path ahead. With another sharp intake of freezing air, they continued on their way. 

It was an old song that carried the Hermit’s feet. A memory from their youth. A drum circle around a wild fire. Thunderous beats from the drumming of their feet. A rhythmic chorus of hands and cheers. All while singing together:

Green flame and ice blue,

Light it up again!

A prosperous and bright hue,

Come, light it up again!

Dear sky, dear lord,

Please grant us

The peace of purpose,

Light it up again!

May your light burst through our dark,

Spring wishes as winter embarks,

Please, light it up again! 

Dear sky! Dear lord!

Light me up again! 

The drums thumped in their heart. The yelping rang in their ears. With every step into the deepening snow, the Hermit imagined a light they were chasing. To themself, they cried, “Light me up again!”

A great gust of wind greeted them. The cold reached inside their lungs and stole their breath. The Hermit gasped and braced against the force. Tiny needles of falling snow ripped into the Hermit’s cheeks. They winced at the pain. 

Then the Hermit reached for the ratted scarf tucked into their coat collar and raised it above their nose. The thin fabric of the scarf was a protective veil, catching blades of snowflakes into its weaves. The Hermit could smell the faint flowery scent of the young woman on the scarf. The scent took the Hermit into the arms of their own parent. A strong arm. A warm embrace. The Hermit thought of the young woman and her child. The flushed cheeks of the small, freezing child. The Hermit felt the strong arm, the warm embrace, and what a sacrifice like a scarf could be. 

Then, the Hermit felt a warmth swelling in their chest. 

They stood firm against the coming storm. They wrapped the scarf around their neck, calmly tossed the loose end off their shoulder, and without shrinking to the cold, kept their pace forward. 

The song in the Hermit’s heart grew louder. Thumping to the rhythm of their steps. They knew not how long this journey had taken, but there was something inside them that told them to start preparing for the fire. 

In a great open wilderness of snow and tundra, the Hermit planted their feet and looked to the overcast heavens. There was a stillness that the Hermit never knew before. Like waiting at the edge of a cliff before a jump. Like a breath before a plunge. Time waited for the Hermit to move. A surreal and unmovable moment that the Hermit was preparing for. Their last. 

“Why are you going?” A young Hermit remembered asking their parent. 

They remember the gentle hand lifting their chin, forcing them to look up.

“One must never shy away from your duty. When you are made of stars and fire, it is your responsibility to share yourself. That is where I must go. Someday, another will go. And another. The world will always need light. And that is what I am. And that is what you are.”

Their parent bent down to meet the young Hermit’s eyes. 

“Keep your light safe for now. Cherish yourself. Grow that light of yours. When you’re ready to share it, I will meet with you there.”

The Hermit, standing in the middle of an unknown, took one last deep breath. Then opened their mouth to sing.

“Green flame and ice blue,

Light it up again!”

A tremendous rumble shook the ground, nearly knocking the Hermit to their knees. The Hermit braced and cautiously continued. 

“A prosperous and bright hue,

Come, light it up again!”

An ear-breaking crack thundered the skies. The Hermit watched as the clouds cracked revealing the dark pit of the winter sky. Through the heavens came spilling a million glittering lights that ran and raced each other across the growing dark. 

The Hermit’s chant became a ballad as a symphony of stars and a chorus of lights serenaded them to a numbing calm.

“Dear sky… dear lord… 

Please grant us

The peace of purpose,

Light it up again…”

In a now cloudless sky, a low bass boomed deep into the sky and a blinding light beamed onto the Hermit.

“May your light burst through our dark,

Spring wishes as winter embarks,

Please, light it up again.”

Ribbons of green and purple and pink slowly draped the sky. A warm welcome encompassed the Hermit. They embraced the light, feeling strong in their resolve. Their parent’s voice started humming sweetly in their ear. 

A tear streamed down their cheek as they looked into the light and screamed,

“Dear sky! Dear lord!

Light me up again!”

A burning flame burst through the Hermit’s chest. The blinding light, the ribbons of color, the dancing stars; they all lifted the Hermit from the ground and carried them into the sky. The Hermit felt no pain. The Hermit smiled as they were swallowed by the flame. They went to see their parent again. 

The Hermit watched over their hometown from the skies. They swelled with pride as the hometown shed themselves of old winter clothes, sang their song to the Hermit, and danced around a wild fire. 

To be made of stars and fire is a responsibility. In a winter; in the dark and cold… remember steadfastness; remember the light inside you. The Hermit continues to live on in the light so that you may do so too.