No one can know. It’s always been like this. Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself. But then again, who out there knew better, who out there made the rules if not the people bearing their weight? Did you make the rules? You don’t know and you feel like knowing wouldn’t help. Are you bound by them? Or is it just your fear reigning over you? You’ve watched them time and time again, the aberrations, the strays, the wanderers… and each time you’ve slipped them a furtive smile and with a light touch they were exceptions no more. Or have you? You struggle to remember. You want to scream, but she’s sleeping, coiled tightly around your feet. Was there ever one like her? Was your grief the reason for the rule? You don’t know, and you’ve buried your past too deep to remember. No one can know.

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You’ve watched the young ones play with the Others, you’ve watched them grow ignorant, you’ve felt them pass through you, unseeing, unrepentant for what they’ve taken from you. The pain always fades. You kid yourself, and you know it. You feel your soul heavy in your being, sagging with longing. But you reassure yourself; there’s the old fisherman sharing his tales to the wind, thinking no one will listen. In your loneliness, he’s your dearest companion. You carry whispers on the wind and you caress his calloused soul whenever he reminisces, and you wish someone could soothe you too. There’s the little boy leaving his drawings out for you, waiting for the gentle rustle of approval; he can’t see you anymore, but he’s stubborn enough not to have forgotten your company. There’s that young woman adding you to the prayers for her children and husband and parents and friends, as if you are family. All the people you’ve touched were left tainted by your presence, but they never know, they can’t know. No one can know.

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When all of Them were born, longing for attention, you were there for them. You offered shelter, you offered warmth. But not even they know. Loneliness is poison for the broken heart and you lie to yourself that you’re neither lonely (how could you be when all life vibrates around you, when the song of the ages weaves through your very being?) nor of a broken heart (for there’s beauty in the world only you can contemplate). But saying doesn’t make it true, and you mourn for something you’ve never had and search for something you’ve never lost. Who to feel your despair? No one can know.

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It’s been like this since the void first drew its breath, yet now you falter? You’d like to laugh, to cry, to scream, to roar, but silence reigns around you as it always has and not once did you hate it more. For all the songs your steps have made, for all the words you’ve woven with your hands, the air never once carried them for you. You want to curse the heavens and maybe yourself, but you can’t, you never could. Maybe that’s why she’s still at your feet, sleeping soundlessly; because the world is cruel and it likes to cause you pain. Because the sun can glare and the moon can hide the earth from its creatures, but not from you. You see it all. Yet, no one can know.

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Maybe you resigned yourself, maybe you can’t escape some kind of cycle, because this ache you feel right now is welcomed and familiar and as old as time. You’ve felt it before though you don’t remember. It’s bittersweet. You stroke her long chestnut hair and behind your eyes a flash of a smile and the same coloured locks blinds you for a moment. It’s her, you think. But whom? You don’t know, and it pains you to be so close and fall short. You’re afraid of what you could find behind locked memories. She came back. You know souls seldom take the same form, but something tells you she’d have been different, she always has. You don’t know who, you don’t know how, but deep in your heart, you know it’s no coincidence and it pains you even more. There’s only one rule and one capital punishment for you. No one can know.

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She stirs and blinks open deep black eyes. She doesn’t flinch away, just stares openly at you, waiting for something. For what, you don’t know. Or at least that’s what you tell yourself. Your gut twists and your heart lurches forward, the emptiness deepens and you’re sure there’s no confusion on her face. She raises calmly, like she’s waited a dozen times for you to catch on, like it’s a normal occurrence to steal your breath away. You think it might just be. You don’t see the hoodie and the jeans anymore. Another image springs to mind, just as playful, just as full of life (the like you never had and never will have) of a girl just like the one in front of you, wrapped in white robes and staring down at you with the same patient face. Will you take my hand? She seems to challenge, Will you remember? You almost grasp her hand...But no one can know.

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She sees you hesitate, your hand twitching back, and she pulls a face. You have the feeling she does that often around you. She puts her hands on her hips and heaves a sigh, head thrown back, hair floating in the gentle breeze. You don’t want to listen to the wind and its eager whisper, nor to the vibrant hum of the grass beneath your feet. You don’t want to admit the world awaits with bated breath. At some point, she fixed you with her stare and you know she isn’t letting go again. You don’t know if it’s a threat or a promise, you don’t know if it’s the past she swears not to repeat or the present she vows not to lose. You feel yourself almost giving in to that girl that feels like home. But there’s nowhere to call home; the rule exists for a reason. No one can know.

So you ignore the stinging behind your eyes, defy the very universe that roots for your remembrance and get up from your spot on the ground, feeling heavier, seeing the strings of fate tying you in place. But you’ve given up any pretence of a normal existence (if you’ve ever had one) so fate can’t hold you down. The world can mourn for you and you can mourn with it and maybe your burden will lighten. So you turn around to leave and take but a step.

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“Wahad.” Her voice is clear and final and determined, just like it’s been since the beginning of time and one by one the tears you held back patter to the ground. You don’t know what you’re crying for but your very being shakes in grief and pain and relief and joy. You’ve always been true to yourself, and deep down you knew you could never walk away. And when she catches you by the hand, you falter and whisper back, more brokenly than any thought, with a voice unused for eons.

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“Nen.” You slip into her arms and embrace her light, and for all your strict obedience, rules have never mattered less. 

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No one can know, but she isn’t someone to be bound by any rule.