by Tanya Tagaq
Ice in lung
Ice in Wind,
Life unsung
Milk Death
Split tooth
Sorrow marrow
Whispered truth
After my grandmother died, my mother would pray to her, asking if I was going to heaven or hell. She prayed so hard, she needed to know. She needed to know because she had always questioned my origins. Concerned for my soul, she wrung her hands and worried. Fear made her pray.
Bypassing my mother, Ananak came to me in a winter dream. It was set in my aunt’s house in Resolute Bay. Christian hymns were playing in the background. I was hiding under the kitchen table. I could see my reflection in the chrome table legs. The plastic plating was peeling off in places and my face was distorted. I was an adolescent girl. Tiles were missing from the kitchen floor. A baby was crying in the other room. A dog howled. Laughter bounced off the walls.
There were three women sitting at the table. They were playing cards and smoking cigarettes. I could see their legs, their polyester pant legs. One of them was naked from the waist down. I spread her legs and buried my face in the warmth and comfort of her. She smelled like home and tasted like hope. Then another pair of legs appeared beside her. They were clad in a long white gown. A pair of soft hands (with all her fingers intact even though in real life my grandmother had lost her fingers in a winter freeze) gently grasped my head and moved it onto her lap, to rest, and ruminate. The smell of Halls and tobacco filled me. Her sweet voice started speaking to me in Inuktitut. It was my grandmother, whole, free from the giant weight of sadness that I witnessed her carrying when she was alive.
She told me I was going to hell, but I was not to be afraid. She told me I was going to hell, but for a reason. She showed me what my role was to be. It was dark in hell, except for this wall of fire that resembled a row of large flowers dancing. Beside each of these fire flowers were people. They were souls that held on to their physical likenesses. The souls were screaming, suffering with unthinkable pain. Hell was trying to wear down their souls, grind them down with agony. As the souls grew weak, they slumped and grew transparent. This took thousands of years. Eventually the soul succumbed, and it would drop backwards into a hole. Hell absorbed the soul from the hole, and hell’s flame would grow stronger. To be extinguished and become part of hell was the very worst thing that could happen to a soul, a thousand times worse than the torture of the flames. Once a soul was eaten by hell it became part of the malevolent force of destruction and evil, causing malice and murder in the living world.
I recoiled in horror as I saw myself. I had no form. I was a floating white spectre. I was posing as a guard. I had to convince Evil that I was kin. I had to feign enjoyment in the pain. But really I was tending the line of souls, gracefully floating near the holes. When a soul was about to fall and die, I would spread myself over the hole to act as a net and catch the soul. I would then absorb the thousands of years of agony, feeling it all at once, and the soul would be revived. I was trying to stop hell from growing stronger. It was why I was made. I am to spend eternity hurting more than could possibly be comprehended, to work for heaven, for benevolence and love. My grandmother said only a few of us were ever allowed the glory and sacrifice of saving these souls. Only the strongest could survive the pain and the wrath of hell. Only the ones tainted with sin and evil could fool the devil at the gates of hell. Only the ones with the brightest hearts would not succumb to the agony. I was to be proud of the honour.
I woke up already hurting, and have been ever since.
Forgive them they say
Forgive those that have hurt you
Don’t hang on to the past they say
You will only hurt yourself
The past has birthed the bricks that
Build my bones
The past divided all my cells
Into this muscle I flex
Into the skin that I’ve stretched
The past is the house of these breaths
I do not forgive and forget
I Protect and Prevent
Make them eat shame and repent
I forgive me
Protect me. I need help. I’m unravelling. I’m afraid. Fear is driving my flesh machine. I’m running blind. Adrenaline.
Forgive me. Forgive my tardiness, my hatred. Forgive my dark heart. Forgive my sickness. Forgive my soul.
Shelter me. Shelter me from myself. I am armed and dangerous. Bleeding.
Beat me. I deserve it. Blacken my eyes so they reflect what I see from the inside. Break my ribs. Kick me.
Kill me. End this. I am not brave enough to do it myself. All I have is numb.
Love me. There is still a child inside. The shaking rabbit.
Cleanse me. Wash the blood off. I am still working. I survive still. I am stronger now.
Worship me. I am boundless. I stood up. I am worthy.
Start again.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to Penguin: to Nick Garrison, for all his help, and Nicole Winstanley, for believing in me in the first place.
Thanks to the Sixshooter Team: to Helen Britton and Shauna DeCartier, for pulling me out of the gutter.
Thanks to Jaime Fernandez, for his uncanny ability to see what my dreams look like.
Thanks to Julia Demcheson, for her translation, and to Laakkuluk Williamson-Bathory, for influencing my intonations on the audiobook.
And thanks especially to my entire family and extended family for bringing me into this world and keeping me on it. And lastly, thanks to my friends and lovers, who keep my imagination afloat.
