Mourning light

The body was found an hour ago. It had been hastily covered by a few boughs broken off nearby firs. In the early morning light the night’s dew shimmered with each passing step. There were now about a dozen onlookers walking around the body in measured steps. Each kept his eyes fixed on the motionless mound, seemingly hoping to discern something, anything, about it. None so much as made a single sound, which lent the scene an oppressive, nearly ritualistic, air. As the hours passed, more onlookers arrived and joined the circular procession. The newly arrived took on the inquisitive look of the rest and soon blended easily into the group. All were dressed in long dark robes with hoods pulled over their heads. They formed a nearly solid wall around the body, leaving only the tiniest glimpse between them as they circled. When more came, the circle expanded outward, but was unceasing in its counter-clockwise rotation.

Left alone with the body, one may have crouched beside it to examine it more closely, to smell the last traces of perfume. Perhaps one would be so bold as to brush back the hair that fell into the face. But in the group, none dared get any closer than another. The sun rose higher and cast a harsher light upon the forest floor and dried the dew from grass, bough and body. The march kept on. Through the hot afternoon the pace slowed only slightly and a few heads hung lower, but never did any of their eyes move from the lifeless form in their midst.

As the sun began to drift behind the distant mountains and the few clouds above began to turn pink, a low murmur started low from the pack. From my perch on a low rise a few hundred yards off, it sounded at first like the distant growl of an avalanche. As darkness crept into the woods, the volume rose. The rhythm of a chant reached my ears, but the words remained elusive. The pace of the mourners – as I had come to regard them – neither increased nor decreased. Their voices matched their steps. With the cooler temperature of the night approaching those that had hung their heads in the heat seemed to regain their strength and now walked erect.

The first stars appeared above and the monotone rhythm of the chant was punctuated by guttural shouts that conveyed much feeling. Each shout was accompanied by the singular motion of the right arm thrown quickly into the air and instantly recalled. As the sky darkened the pace quickened, the rhythm of the chant sped up to match it and the interval between the shouts shortened. When the moon could first be glimpsed above the treetops, shrill yelps came from the previously unnoticed women who had joined the group. The chant continued with the yelps of the women and the shouts of the men alternating and reverberating through the low valley.

For several minutes more there was no change. When the moon came fully over the horizon, however, the women broke the ranks from the four points of the compass and jerked the boughs from the body. They rejoined the march, tossing the boughs high above them and into the shadows of the surrounding forest. Over the chant of the procession the crash of the boughs could barely be discerned. Again the pace quickened and the volume rose.

At last the moon reached its zenith and bathed the mourners in a dull glow. Four of the more stout men stepped to the inside of the circle but continued to keep pace. The four circled closer and closer to the body until they nearly trod upon it. They stopped suddenly and dropped to a knee, each taking hold of a limb. With fluid motion they rose and lifted the body toward the heavens. The outer circle let go a cry – a mix of anguish, jealousy, pain, and fear – then resumed their original chant, the punctuating shouts and yelps now absent. In the center the four men, held the body high. They faced the south; the two under the feet standing side by side so that the ankles touched, the two with the arms so that they extended out like wings. The head, perhaps braced under the neck, did not fall or roll. Long curls of dark brown hair cascaded down and swayed slightly. Loose white fabric from the body’s dressings hung like sails from the arms and legs. Slowly the men turned the body, clockwise, never allowing the hips of the body to stray from above their original position on the ground. By nearly imperceptible increments they turned the body faster until the rotations of the two circles were identical.

From the west clouds rolled in above the trees, but split curiously above the mourners. The clouds, dark and menacing, circled the moon in the manner of the outer circle flowing around the body. The moon continued its journey across the sky, becoming masked by the cloud. The scene darkened, but the chants continued. In the diminished light it was difficult to see, but the revolutions of the mourners did not slow. When the moon was fully behind the clouds a flash of light came from the clouds. It came not in discernible bolts, but rather in a flood from every direction. So powerful was it that the entire forest glowed and lost all shape, leaving only a blinding white. Just as suddenly darkness plunged back in, as if filling a vacuum. The clouds parted without so much as a breath of wind. The mourners stood, with arms and faces raised to the heavens, their eyes closed and lips sealed tight; the body conspicuously absent. Slowly, and in synchronized fashion, the mourners lowered their arms and faces to the center of the circle, turned and parted ways, each walking in a straight line, no two walking together.