BONES: A SHORT STORY
However, we are animal, not all spirit – and to see the dead, to touch the emptied skin, is to know how the body is woven into earth and sky. Now she was crouching over he body, making sense of the story that had gripped her for so long. There was no doubt, the bones must stay. And for who-knows-how-long, she lay bare-skinned on the shore where the waves were breaking towards the cave, as though held herself between life and death, gravity and what leads us to seek release.
Breakfast was most ordinary, yet sacred; unspoken moments of knowing she was meeting her mother for the first time. Then, belly full, arms empty, she ascended the cliff and strode back towards the village, into life.