Cedar Sweep ⩸ tuqqun ⩸

THE FOURTH SONG

There would be no singing tonight. There would only be crying—the release of the pain that'd constricted her heart since her son had died.

But with all of her screaming and wailing, there was no relief. She remained on the ground, blood dry upon her brow and salt lining her cheeks. This was unlike anything she'd felt before; how could she let go and release all of it when it felt all-consuming?

How would she make it through this? How would she find peace? How would she continue to find her voice as it faltered? How could she let go of the pain?

She did not know.