her chin. It seemed evil to wish for our mother’s life instead of Sahmril’s, but I didn’t blame Leila for how she felt. “Perhaps it’s a good thing we didn’t have to choose between them.”
There was silence between us and little comfort out here, without shelter. My baby sister would be crying again before dawn. A moment later, Leila threw the blanket over her head and fell asleep. She usually hid when life became too unbearable, just as she had disappeared while Kadesh was being doctored.
I rolled onto my back, unable to get warm. Finally I roseand hovered over the remains of the fire, but I still felt chilled.
The camels huddled together, softly chewing their cud. I was tempted to curl up next to one, but I needed to do something first.
This day must end with my last thoughts for my mother.
Stepping around the sleeping forms of my sister and my father, I tiptoed to the perimeter of the camp toward the litter, now taken down from the back of our camel and sitting on the ground for the night. Not having a candle, I parted the curtains, using my hands to sweep under the piles of pillows and blankets. At last my fingers touched the hard piece of wood wrapped in one of Leila’s scarves.
I rocked back on my heels and caressed the dark golden piece of wood. In the moonlight, the figure’s polished strands of hair cut from the terebinth bark were glossy, her legs firm, her hips and breasts lovely.
“What secrets do you hold?” I whispered in the night air. “What music do you dance to? Certainly not the music of my tribe. Is this why you are forbidden, as my mother always said?”
No immediate answers came, and I finally placed the dancing woman back under the pillows so Leila wouldn’t be screaming at me in the morning. Then I found a large, flat rock away from my sleeping family and sat down, shivering inside the folds of my old, worn cloak.
A shooting star dropped out of the sky, sizzling at the horizon. I wanted to hear the voice of my mother one more time. I tried to recall the sound of her laughter, the music of her singing, the vision of her dancing.
Her soul had gone somewhere else, somewhere I couldn’t see. I tried to conjure her beautiful face, her strong arms, the touch of her hands stroking my hair. “I’ve never felt so lost in all my life,” I told her softly, hoping her spirit was nearby and could hear me. “I’m afraid I will lose Leila to the desert’s harshness—or the Temple of Ashtoreth. I’m afraid Sahmril will die because I don’t know how to take care of her. And—” I paused, knowing I shouldn’t say this out loud. “And I’m afraid to marry Horeb, even though I know you wanted me to, and it is my duty to our family and tribe.”
Only last night I’d danced with my mother and sister and grandmother. Eaten sweets until my stomach ached. Laughed at the women teasing me about the marriage bed, and shivered with fear as I stood in the circle to dance by myself for the first time.
“Turn to the dance of our ancient mothers,” a voice seemed to whisper to me along the wind.
With the memory of my mother’s face before me, I dropped my cloak to the rock, raised my arms, and began moving them in slow half circles—first my right arm, then my left, swaying to the silent music of the desert.
I dug my toes into grains of sand still warm from the day’s sun, and outlined the moon overhead with my wrists and arms, gazing at the white, perfect sphere encrusted by a galaxy of stars. Closing my eyes, I pressed my legs together to form small, tight hip circles. Four to the right, and then four to the left. With each change of direction I increased the speed of the circles until my body began to warm up and loosen all the fearand grief I’d been holding in all day.
Then I brought my arms higher and clasped my hands flat together overhead. In this position, I began a series of hip thrusts, holding the rest of myself as still as possible. My mother had once shown me how to
There was silence between us and little comfort out here, without shelter. My baby sister would be crying again before dawn. A moment later, Leila threw the blanket over her head and fell asleep. She usually hid when life became too unbearable, just as she had disappeared while Kadesh was being doctored.
I rolled onto my back, unable to get warm. Finally I roseand hovered over the remains of the fire, but I still felt chilled.
The camels huddled together, softly chewing their cud. I was tempted to curl up next to one, but I needed to do something first.
This day must end with my last thoughts for my mother.
Stepping around the sleeping forms of my sister and my father, I tiptoed to the perimeter of the camp toward the litter, now taken down from the back of our camel and sitting on the ground for the night. Not having a candle, I parted the curtains, using my hands to sweep under the piles of pillows and blankets. At last my fingers touched the hard piece of wood wrapped in one of Leila’s scarves.
I rocked back on my heels and caressed the dark golden piece of wood. In the moonlight, the figure’s polished strands of hair cut from the terebinth bark were glossy, her legs firm, her hips and breasts lovely.
“What secrets do you hold?” I whispered in the night air. “What music do you dance to? Certainly not the music of my tribe. Is this why you are forbidden, as my mother always said?”
No immediate answers came, and I finally placed the dancing woman back under the pillows so Leila wouldn’t be screaming at me in the morning. Then I found a large, flat rock away from my sleeping family and sat down, shivering inside the folds of my old, worn cloak.
A shooting star dropped out of the sky, sizzling at the horizon. I wanted to hear the voice of my mother one more time. I tried to recall the sound of her laughter, the music of her singing, the vision of her dancing.
Her soul had gone somewhere else, somewhere I couldn’t see. I tried to conjure her beautiful face, her strong arms, the touch of her hands stroking my hair. “I’ve never felt so lost in all my life,” I told her softly, hoping her spirit was nearby and could hear me. “I’m afraid I will lose Leila to the desert’s harshness—or the Temple of Ashtoreth. I’m afraid Sahmril will die because I don’t know how to take care of her. And—” I paused, knowing I shouldn’t say this out loud. “And I’m afraid to marry Horeb, even though I know you wanted me to, and it is my duty to our family and tribe.”
Only last night I’d danced with my mother and sister and grandmother. Eaten sweets until my stomach ached. Laughed at the women teasing me about the marriage bed, and shivered with fear as I stood in the circle to dance by myself for the first time.
“Turn to the dance of our ancient mothers,” a voice seemed to whisper to me along the wind.
With the memory of my mother’s face before me, I dropped my cloak to the rock, raised my arms, and began moving them in slow half circles—first my right arm, then my left, swaying to the silent music of the desert.
I dug my toes into grains of sand still warm from the day’s sun, and outlined the moon overhead with my wrists and arms, gazing at the white, perfect sphere encrusted by a galaxy of stars. Closing my eyes, I pressed my legs together to form small, tight hip circles. Four to the right, and then four to the left. With each change of direction I increased the speed of the circles until my body began to warm up and loosen all the fearand grief I’d been holding in all day.
Then I brought my arms higher and clasped my hands flat together overhead. In this position, I began a series of hip thrusts, holding the rest of myself as still as possible. My mother had once shown me how to
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