The Shades That Follow
From a large Romani tribe that practiced Celtic traditions. Margarita paved her own path in truth and practice. Being driven by forces unknown, she traveled throughout Asia, Europe, and Africa. Satiating her desire for exploration, learning, and helping those in need.
By the age of 34 she came to the Americas to start a new life. Leaving her tribe and family behind. Finally shedding the old customs that bound her to live as her ancestors did. She sought out to have her own family. Free from the constraints that her culture demanded.
A handmade book of a 97 year account. A documented life. Through journals, diaries, and experiences past down through word of mouth. All inherited by her great granddaughter and woven into a compilation of what has been interpreted as “living amidst the faint shades.”
(1914)
The growth grain harp grooves spun
‘dernieth ridge fleshed blood warmed sun
Aflame sensation breaths mine comes
Content shores seen one undone
Visions and spasms trumpet calm sight
The sea long stained fathom’s rite
I see their pleas, fare pleads, barren knees
On flight prayer fees to gods held tight
A wishing rage bound and caged
Still and motionless my gaze still sways
Over endless, the waves they bathe
No chains seen binding, still present I cave
Stilled and bottled I have my brew plum
Nectar rich sweetness melts stone to tongue
Eyes open to stand untethered tide laid
Bow gripped heart for all the faint shades
(1887)
“I was a league from the edge of camp. A day and night after my mother’s death. I watched the sun rise from the eastern shore. My heart was numb and my face cold and swollen. I hadn’t slept. Just listened to the ever repetitive music from the sea. I had eaten a plumb in the dead of night. It was all I had at the time. It was still in my pocket when my brother had beckoned. He took me to her. She had called for me. Told me to trust what she had seen. Told me to find my way. To trust in my own self. To just be true to my heart. My brother and I watched her leave us. I had never seen real death before that day. I didn’t know what to do. My uncles could not stop me when I fled. Despite the calls of my name, I ran with the dead wind at my back. There were too many of us for me to breath. I needed peace. The ocean was the only place I could go that was not tainted with all this loss I felt. I collapsed next to a fallen tree and just stared out into the endless flat landscape of water. The dead bark beneath my hands. For a day I just waited for the visions to come. Like they always did. Whenever someone near had died, they came. I never knew who they were. Never met them. My mother told me that it was a gift. She called it the faint shade. She told me that I was seeing those who were to pass on. Seeing what was to come and what has already happened. But I didn’t see her shade. Not before she died. All I could think about was that it wasn’t real. What I saw didn’t happen. My mother had to be alive. Did I see what was going to happen? Was I dreaming? Did she really die? When I grew hungry and finally stood. The faint shade came. I saw her sewing by the campfire. Like all the others before her’s. She did not notice me. I could feel her pain. The cramp in her chest and back. She hid it from all of us. The weeks passing by like a slow melody. The pain and secret guilt compiling and giving way to my own image by her side. Then nothing. I came to staring at the night sky. That is when I knew that she really was dead. That is when I started to cry. I wept until I had nothing left. Just waiting to understand what to do. Watching the sun rise over the ocean and feeling it’s warmth hit my face.
She had told me months before to not allow the men of our family to hold back my dreams. To set my own rules apart from our gods. To live free and unbroken. When I told her that father said I was to marry. She spit and said that he was a fool to try and tame a wild fire. So, I had to leave. That morning my mind was made up. I was not going to be like my sisters. I was going to be whatever I wanted.”
