the first memory of water : the blood of the mother / the tears of the son as he is cut from her. & he does not know , & he does not see , if the vision is his past or his future, cyclical, repetitive and addictive : a green-eyed boy staring through the window with droplets of rainwater scattered throughout the glass like stars, the dunes grey and dull beyond it. a man and his blue-within-blue eyes under rain in the desert. the water dark and thick upon the sand, looks much like blood. but muad’dib knows that water is this : the transparent shape of loss. there is a distant sadness that fills the room like a bad smell. & @sihayni, who is his chani stands in the middle of it , nursing the wound-broken animal of her grief, the only thing left that makes her a mother. what is grief translated into ? grief cannot be translated. it exists.
& his own body is a dry landscape in which grief dies quickly, no light reigns inside him now, a valley of bones & shadow knows only anger, only indifference. but his hand reaches out to touch her cheek all the same, skin to skin and her tears to his fingertips, touch for the sake of touch, & gentle for the sake of her. ❝ this water will not be wasted, sihaya, i promise you this. ❞
