The Tears of Ra

Ra called into the water, and the water closed over his voice.

“Shu.”

A ripple touched the edge of the ground beneath his feet.

“Tefnut.”

Another followed it. Beyond them lay Nu, dark and without a far shore. His children were somewhere in that stillness. His Eye was with them, hidden from him, and he could no longer tell where he ought to look.

He stood where the damp earth ended. Once there had been no ground here, nothing to bear his weight. He had brought himself into being, raised a place to stand, brought forth Shu and Tefnut from his own body. He remembered the first nearness of them. Now he held his hands apart, with room between them for those he could not see.

A sound came across the water.

Ra lifted his head.

It was slight enough to be mistaken for the breaking of a ripple. He waited. The water smoothed itself, and for a while there was nothing.

Then someone called him father.

He stepped forward. Water closed cold around his ankles.

“Again,” he said.

“Father!”

Shu’s voice. Ra knew it before he could make out a face.

A pale brightness moved upon Nu. Beside it, two shapes drew nearer, appearing and disappearing as the light touched them. Ra strained to distinguish one from the other. An arm lifted. A head turned. Tefnut stood beside Shu, and between them shone the Eye they were bringing home.

They were laughing.

The sound reached him before their hands did. He went to meet them, scarcely feeling the water now, and caught Shu by the arm. Tefnut reached for his other hand. Her fingers closed firmly around his.

For a moment he could do nothing but hold them.

“You are here,” he said.

Tefnut pressed his hand. “Here.”

He looked from her to Shu, then back again, as though one might vanish while he attended to the other. Water slipped from their arms. Their feet found the ground beside his. The Eye’s brightness lay across all three of them, and Ra could see the small movements of their faces as they smiled at him.

He drew his children close.

The breath he had taken to speak would not become words. It caught in his chest. He tried once more, but the light was blurring, and warmth was gathering beneath his eyelids.

Shu’s hand rested against his shoulder.

Ra bowed his head. The tears ran freely down his face, touching the hands with which he held his children. He did not wipe them away.

One fell between their feet.

It struck the earth and gleamed there, round and trembling. Another fell beside it. Ra watched them through the brightness in his own eyes. The drops did not sink into the ground. They swelled, and their reflections shifted, though no one had moved.

He loosened his hold on Shu.

Something stirred where the first tear had fallen.

At first it was only a fold within the shining drop. Then the fold opened. A shoulder rose, a bent head, an arm feeling blindly for the earth. Fingers spread against the wet ground.

Ra knelt.

The small being lifted its face. Water shone on its cheeks. Its mouth opened, and the sudden breath it drew was audible in the stillness.

Beside it, another shape was unfolding. This one turned its head toward the sound and pressed a hand against its own chest. Beneath the hand, the chest rose and fell.

More tears slipped from Ra’s face. Where they touched the earth, men and women came into being. They crouched, straightened, looked about them. One raised an arm across its eyes against the brilliance of the gods. Another bent close to the water, saw a face there, and drew back so quickly that its hands struck the ground behind it.

Ra reached out, then stopped. The new creature was already sitting up. It examined the earth on its palms and rubbed them together, watching the dark grains fall.

A woman beside it tried to stand. Her knees bent beneath her, and she caught herself with both hands. She stayed that way for a breath, looking at the space between her feet. Then she tried again.

This time the man beside her rose with her. Their shoulders touched. Each steadied the other, and they remained upright.

Ra lowered his hand.

Around him the shore was filling with breath and movement. Shu and Tefnut stood close enough for their arms to brush his. He could still feel the places where their fingers had clasped him, but his gaze followed the people before him now: the turning faces, the uncertain limbs, the hands discovering other hands.

The woman took a step away from the water. Her companion followed. They paused, swayed, and went on.

Behind them, two tracks of small footprints crossed the wet earth beside the marks left by the gods.