Scivia by Meg Tuite

Space bloomed inside her when voices were about to unveil themselves. In this place of passive potency she knew she was only to wait. She no longer heard the music of birds, monotone humans, or melodious trees. There was a rustling, but it came from within. They said her eyes twitched and watered and her hands roamed over her quill with a groping fervor. When she grasped it, the earth trembled and permeated the cells of underground creatures.

It always began with circles. The outer realm never impinged upon the figure. She moved in a clockwise manner as each illuminated band held within itself the germination of redemption. Her body swayed and her eyes turned inward, moving with the waves of her breath. Words damp with knowledge infused themselves onto each page. Leaf upon leaf spoke of the cosmos and its creator. Music inflicted itself between the two. Her trembling hand bewildered the circumference closer and closer. A glow of global penetration touched the figure. Blue, with upraised hands, it waited for the aperture to open above. It waited for the merging of these two realms to shift the winds of the firmament into air.

She saw space concealed within those outer circles beckoning to collide with the circles of platitude where humans could touch something of the eternal.

© 2011 Meg Tuite

Meg Tuite’s writing has appeared or is forthcoming in over 50 magazines, journals and presses including 34th Parallel, One, the Journal, Hawaii Review and Boston Literary Magazine. She is the fiction editor of The Santa Fe Literary Review and Connotation Press: An Online Artifact. Her fiction collection “Domestic Apparition” is forthcoming in March 2011 through San Francisco Bay Press. She has a monthly column, Exquisite Quartet, at Used Furniture Review. You can find her here: http://megtuite.wordpress.com