Rainbow Speak

A piece I wrote spontaneously on March 23, 2020, the day before I heard about the new book The Invisible Rainbow, about the history of humans complex relationship with electricity.

Tell me how much you love me, she said? 

What more will it take? I have given you everything. 

She remembered somewhere deep in her bones, that feeling of love. Of being cherished. 

And on that day, she swore, she would never ever lie. 

Why lie, you might ask? 

Because the earth does not lie. 

Everything is just as it is, precisely itself. 

This is the truth of it, and the beauty of it.  

And the nature of nature. 

Although she knew she could never lie, she also did not know how to tell the truth. So she did not speak. 

She got quiet, and small. Much too small for her size. 

Though in her muteness, she learned to listen. 

She listened to the water, the soil, the plants, the animals, the dreams, the heron, salamander, bear, black phoebe. And in the listening, she was returned to herself. She was remembered, in relation to all of the other voices, the songs of all of the beings of all of the world. 

She loved to sing, songs of praise and mourning. Because she loved the world. It belonged her holy. 

Tears took a while to loosen, from her dry eyes, as they had been so long, tucked inside, invisible. 

She did not lie, but she could not tell the truth. 

Until she could. Until she could not not tell the truth. 

Until it was all she could do. 

It was what she was made for. 

Truth and beauty. 

Today, the rainbow lit up the eastern sky at dusk. 

Was there ever such a thing? 

We needed a rainbow, he said. 

And it was given. Same as it ever was. 

Same as it ever was. 

This is the truth of it, and the beauty of it. 

Tell me again, the story of the rainbow.

~Alexis Slutzky