Freshwater

by Akwaeke Emezi

Somehow, Saul knew that whatever looked back out of his child was not his mother, but someone, something else.

Humans often pray and forget what their mouths can do, forget that every ear is listening, that when you direct your longing to the gods, they can take that personally.

Sometimes the only god who hears your prayer is the one who intends to answer it.

It was interesting for us to watch, how he didn’t even have to go anywhere in order to leave her.

I was a child of trauma; my birth was on top of a scream and I was baptized in blood.

He wanted to pretend he was somehow better than he knew he was; he wasn’t ready to throw himself into sin. Humans find it easier to just lie and lie to themselves.

But I am not entirely opposed to madness, not when it comes with this kind of clarity.

Love is transformative in that way. Like small gods, it can bring out the prophet in you. You find yourself selling dreams of spectacular hereafters, possible only if you believe, if you really, really believe.

I had dragged her through unprecedented filth in the name of protection.

“Were we not innocent?” I shouted, my voice slamming against the marble and splintering it. Cracks ran through the walls and ceiling, and Ada and Vincent froze where they were standing. All I could see was the mother color. “Were we not innocent enough to be spared?!”

He wanted a soft moon in his hands and he got a scalding sun.

Looking like Uche meant she belonged somewhere. It was like they were saying—we can see our blood in your face, you’re one of ours.

After you have let the wilderness in you come out and play, after you have spilled your darkness in front of a stranger, it can be difficult to look at them in the sentience of daylight.

I still want forever, Yshwa. But I’ve learned that you can’t force forever on the wrong people.

Understand this if you understand nothing: it is a powerful thing to be seen.

The meaning was clear. Curve in on yourself. Touch your tongue to your tail so you know where it is. You will form the inevitable circle, the beginning that is the end. This immortal space is who and where you are, shapeshifter. Everything is shedding and everything is resurrection.