Dance of The Dragonflies
By
Eily Nash
"What Mortal hand can hold the dance of Dragonflies, not you or I, for they dance on wings of enchantment."
The sun was high in the Summer sky, I imagined him resplendent in robes of gold sat upon his celestial throne, wearing his radiant Solstice crown. Balmy days lead to dreamy ways and I fell into a quiet reverie, stood on a rickety wooden bridge overlooking a rippling stream, listening to the music of clear water flowing over stones, akin to tinkling bells. Dappled light skimmed over the water, shimmering and glistening in the noon day heat. A vivid splash of iridescent green and blue caught my eye, oh an Emperor Dragonfly! 'How lovely', I thought, as another flew by. Enchanted I stood and watched them dance and play with delightful ease. I saw a Sparrow Hawk soaring on the wind currents high above, his shrill cry tore through the air. Was it in appreciation of their incredibly beautiful ballet? Or was he jealous of their love, their connection, as two moved as one?
I felt the heat go out of the day and shivered as a memory escaped from the ice caverns of my heart. Funny how a sight, a sound or smell can catapult you back into either a fragrant or painful moment in time. I thought of a girl I knew long ago and wished she were still mine. I wished we were Dragonflies, dancing carefree on the Summer breeze. And she had been mine, until the stranger came and stole her away.
A silent, treacherous sob caught my throat. I fought to swallow, but I was gripped by the unexpected pain, and I fell to my knees and screamed at the Sun in his perfect sky and asked 'Why?' I called her Sage although it was not her name, partly because she seemed to hold the wisdom of the ages. Partly for her beautiful sage green eyes which would dance with light as she regaled me with tales of myth and magic. She has hair as red a molten lava, curls cascading down her slim back like tongues of fire. Her smile would light up the darkest heart of night. And I loved her...
The tears came, bitter rain, and the longing in my heart threatened to tear me apart. How I wished she were here with me now, in my mind's eye I envisioned her and I, dancing on water, as Dragonflies…
The magic had evaporated, and I started to walk back to the village Inn, my home for a most agreeable few weeks in the English country side. A treat to myself from the hustle and bustle and burnout of my hectic New York city Writer's life. I heard the Screech of the Sparrow Hawk again. He was swooping and circling over a little churchyard. I drew near. The flint stone walls of the Medieval church of St Michael glinted in the afternoon light. Walking under the Lynch gate, I spent a moment thinking of ancient days gone by and all those who had stood here long before my time, waiting admittance into the sanctuary of hallowed walls, anticipating rites of passage to be performed: Baptisms, Marriages and that old leveller, Death.
I felt a soft flutter by my face and startled I saw a Butterfly, a vibrant cobalt blue and as beautiful as the Dragonflies. She danced before my eyes, beckoning me to follow. It had been a very long time since I had been inside a church, I guess my anger at the 'Man Upstairs' was still raw. I had prayed, how I had prayed, and begged and pleaded for Him to send my Love back to me. I thought the passage of time had assuaged the pain of loss, are we ever truly healed?
That little Butterfly was insistent, and I followed her dancing wings. She delicately alighted on a strange carving formed from warm yellow Hamstone. I focused and saw it wasn't a gargoyle but some type of mystical beast gazing down from the portico. Then my Butterfly friend fluttered back to me, right onto my hand. I swear she smiled, before returning to the protection of her Dragon. I guessed the Solstice sun had heated the stone and she would rest for a while. A good idea, and I proceeded into the cool of the church for a little respite of my own.
As I sat in the empty pews, my gaze alighted on cold stone tomb. Beautifully and ornately carved. A highborn man, his name sent a shiver down my spine. Somewhere in my mind fragments were forming together. Tales of myth, magic and Lords and Ladies of long ago, of Dragons and Butterflies. There was a strange stirring in my heart and a sense of excitement. I mused on the serendipity of the day and the powerful spiritual significance of both Dragonflies and Butterflies. Transformation, transmutation, regeneration, realisation and rebirth. And in this holy place I was acutely aware of the layers of prayer and devotion and the connection between both temporal and spiritual worlds.
The Butterfly had brought me a mystery to unravel, through the mists of time.
And for the first time in many moon tides, I smiled…
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