The Wave

When the wall fell, a wave rolled across our land, smothering us in ice water. It carried away fences, gobbled up cattle, drowned crops. Shoulder high slabs of glacier settled, new rocky outcrops coated in glitter. Light illuminated the far reaches of our homeland. What appeared in darkness as four solid walls now emerged as a forest, her fingertips stretching farther than anyone could have imagined. We turned from the light, our eyes used to pin pricks and muted sun. What was clear is now blurred, our edges fragile, peeling away from us. We waded thigh deep for three days until it subsided, leaving nothing but an island of ancient ferns to mark the place we once called home. The ice lagoon is a marker, the end of what we know and the beginning of a journey. We travel now, to escape the chill before it consumes us, our backs to the light which guides us away, breaking down walls that never existed.