The New Day

This is my first attempt at Reedsy. Sort of folksy? Somebody said New Age? Is that me? Not sure, but here goes!

THE NEW DAY

By Ann Martin

Listen! And you will have to listen hard. Listen with your heart, your

hopes and your firmest belief.  You’ll feel it rather than hear it, yet you can be sure it’s there.

It is life returning, returning to life. Slowly, faintly, I promise you, a whisper, a waking, a stir.

Listen, can you hear?

There’s something we want to tell you. Something you need to know. It’s about the Plunderers, Blunderers and Lords of War, who came in with their heavy boots. They robbed, they, ruined, they trashed and they burned. They left our beloved Mother Gaia, to starve and die in rags.

When there was nothing else to steal, they decided to steal Lady Sun. So the Plunders, Blunderers and Lords of War unleashed their Dragon Bird.

 “Go get it!” they bawled and the Dragon Bird took off with a thunder of wings. He grabbed Lady Sun sun in his talons and carried her far away.

With that the world turned dark and cold in everlasting winter’s night. Mother Gaia cried out with icy tears, but all was huddled in silent sleep. No, not quite all, some of us heard. Some of us were awake.

The Plunderers, Blunderers and Lords of War said, “No point in us staying here.”

They loaded up rocket ships with their loot and took off into outer space.

And that’s when on all four winds we came, with lanterns and torches held high. The children of North, South, East and West as we heard Mother Gaia’s cry.

We met where the land and sea meet the sky. But where to go from there?

The answer came out of the darkness on the wings of a nightingale. That one small bird had circled the earth before she had flown down to us.

“I’ve seen the palest glimmer from deep inside a cave, on the top of Forgotten Mountain, in the Middle of Nowhere,” she said.

So away we marched and bravely we sang, with the nightingale flying ahead.

The Plunderers, Blunderers and Lords of War had left one last forest behind. It was bleak and black and we stumbled about as our lanterns and torches burned low. That was when the Beast named Fear started whispering in our ears.

How could we know what demons and trolls were lurking among all those trees?

Then, one by one, by a hundred, thousands of fireflies appeared. They sparkled on twigs and branches, they glistened along our path. The forest shone bright as a festival and the demons and trolls crept away.

Onward and onward we marched and sang, until we reached a lake. All that was left was a garbage-choked swamp and we were once again in the dark. The Fear Beast was waiting patiently, ever ready to share an idea.

How could we know what gremlins and ghouls haunted that slimy sludge?

As we battled Fear, a full moon appeared and shone down amid millions of stars. We waded across by their silver light and the gremlins and ghouls slithered off.

Nowhere had once been Somewhere, a place of birdsong and butterflies. There’d been woodlands and wildlife and rivers, farmlands and cities and flowers.

Now it was an empty nothing, its waters dried, its trees and flowers dead. Buildings were rubble and ruin. Every living creature was gone.

In the Middle of Nowhere a stark shadow loomed grim against the sky. Even by moonlight and starlight, Forgotten Mountain filled us with dread. We were not always sure we could see the faint glimmer at the top. But when we looked through the eyes of the nightingale, we were almost certain we could.

We were chilled through and through. We were weary. Our lanterns and spirits were dimmed. The nightingale at last lost her song. Could we really make this final climb? The Fear Beast said we could not.

As we dragged our courage around us, like a flimsy, worn out coat, a glory blazed across the skies in swirls of coloured light. Crimson, sapphire, saffron, jade, magenta, rose and flame, the Lady Aurora whirled and billowed in a wild celestial waltz. And we knew that she danced for us.

Our spirits soared, our blood ran warm, our hearts and voices sang. With Lady Aurora watching over us, we knew we could carry on.

It was a long climb, a hard climb. We carried the younger ones on our backs. Every moment we kept our eyes on that glimmer up above.

We lost count of the hours we clambered. All we knew was that we had reached the cave. And we knew that the sun was dying in there, yet how could we get her out?

The Dragon Bird crouched at the entrance, ferociously guarding his prey. There was no one there to help us now and we knew some of could die. The Fear Beast smirked and prowled, “Well, look at you now,” he sneered.

 For the first time we felt we had lost. Then our nightingale started to sing

She sang of the four winds that brought us from North, South, East and West. She sang of firelight and moonlight, of fireflies and millions of stars. She sang of the Lady Aurora, trailing her own blaze of lights. But then she sang of the one light the world could not live without.

We all raised our voices and sang with her, “Have courage, Sister Sun!”

And our song did rekindle her courage. No dragon could hold her now.

With a great fiery rush and a shatter of rocks, Sister Sun at last burst herself free. Through the top of Forgotten Mountain she leapt and onward into the sky.

Daybreak! Dawnlight! Newlight! We danced and we shouted with joy.

Whining and whimpering, the Dragon Bird scurried into the cave to hide. The Fear Beast made his sniveling way back from where he had come.

We are the children. We are the new day. We will plant, we will nurture, we will build. Because of us and the hope we bring,

Nowhere will become Somewhere again. There’ll be birdsong and butterflies, woodlands and wildlife, rivers, farmlands, cities and flowers.

And the only tears Mother Gaia will shed, will be tears of warm summer rain.

Listen! It has begun.