The next time I went to Walden it was after I had released her body into the heavens. Blue as the pond itself and clear as a cloudless sky.
A gently breeze rustled her surface, ripples like the coiled hair of her sister lying limp along her back.
Yet she had none.
I looked for her face above me, the angel I followed the last time I swam into the depth of Walden’s well.
It was not there.
I was only breath and blow and rhythm and struggling to stay afloat when my body had other thoughts.
As if the water had welled up against me, like a mountain of tear upon tear I had to conquer.
Until I had climbed so far I was far away from shore.
She was floating to the other shore like a lotus flower.
And I remembered I had not told her I would walk into the fire with her always.
I had only pushed her instead.
And my tears dissolved into Walden.
Salt. And earth. And ash.