Dear Lullaby

Dear Lullaby,

The seasons have changed several times since your first letter.

I wonder what kinds of plants you see, and what kind of people you meet? We share the same sky yet sometimes it feels like we share nothing else.

I have thought long and hard about your letters, and I’ve been unable to respond properly. And while I have put together these words, I still do not consider it a proper response.

I’ve tried to understand your people and your land, and I’ve failed to. And even more of a failure, this one letter I managed to write will be about myself.

When I first learned about this island, it was my goal to do whatever it took to become its Duke.

I studied the history of my country well. I knew that if history ran its usual course, we would just perpetuate the same cycle of violence and pillaging that occurred on the mainland.

Everything I saw made me feel it was the only path forward.

So to avoid that path, I became the person I needed to be to change that outcome. I outsmarted, outshone, and outtricked my competition. I believed that to be a hero of this land was a matter of strength and subterfuge. Or at least, that’s what I saw around me. And it worked. I obtained the power that I needed. But I couldn’t change much.

Instead I found myself at the head of a conflict that I was still powerless to change. Instead of being able to turn our fates, I realized I had become the enforcer of it.

It was then that I met a girl: lost, powerless, and tiny. She walked up to a stage, behaved awkwardly, asked some questions from the heart and performed just as earnestly. She made me realize I had completely lost track of the beauty of this island. I hope you meet this girl on your travels.

Because of her, I tried once again to understand you. I reread your letters over and over. I know now that the future of this island isn’t one I can carry alone.

But how can a destroyer like me ask you to create alongside me? How can an invader like me truly understand this land and your people? How can I ask for your help, when I trampled the very flowers that you’ve grown on this island?

To be honest, I dislike flowers. One nurtures them, they bloom, and then one desperately nurses that beauty to last, but it never does. I don’t want this land to be a flower that withers forever. I want it to maintain its beauty. But how can I do that? And if I can’t, then who can?

And that made me realize, you are the heroine of this land. Your stories and legends keep people hopeful, and keep your towns warm and bright. How can I complain of the burden I chose, when you carry one that others have chosen for you?

Can you tell me, after everything you’ve done, what a heroine is?

I don’t think I’ll get your answer. But I know now to not give in to the hopelessness that was taught to me and I so readily accepted.

It is my selfish wish to ask you to fight for the future of this island, together.

Humbly,

Bourin