runawaylibrary

[runawaylibrary]

Ekri Means Laughter

You might say it’s ironic a symbol of us is named the thing that is directed at us in mockery. I find it fitting, because Ekri means laughter and laughter means joy. Joy is so perfect for us, joy feels like a good day, it feels like us. Joy feels like me. I’m so happy, we are so happy, though we are in pain, for many of us every moment. Systems around oppress but the point of Ekri, one who is laughter, is that she finds happiness in the little pocket around her, that no matter what, little things and big things will make us happy, something will make us laugh.

——————

Ekri, she walked through the Desert. She never spoke a word in her life. But she said so many. Deskan only accepted one way of speaking: making words with your mouth and praising him. Ekri used her hands, speaking with the wind like thunder ripping through clouds. She gave her words to the Desert, she would never praise one who called her incomplete, Deskan thought she was only partially there, since deskanta believe that the only way to speak is speaking over. Ekri saw herself as complete. She knew that words were not just spoken but felt and crafted. Ekri’s name did not just mean laughter, she was laughter. Laughter was her heart, her mind, and her voice.

[runawaylibrary]

“The Sky’s On Fire” by Meili_Kese_Analeko

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48465697

Chapters: 1/1

Words: 147

We won’t stay quiet It started as a riot We’re under attack And we will fight back

Please show your pride They are not on our side Our rights are under attack And we won’t stand back

The sky’s on fire But it’s our flame The sky’s on fire But they’re not to blame

The system will fall There’s no time to stall For the future birds singing We will come rising

Protect our every right This is our greatest fight We say it for who we lost Still we will go on at any cost

The sky’s on fire But it’s our flame The sky’s on fire But they’re not to blame

With our we must build Our spirit strong-willed Though the sky is gray We will never run away

Please light the fire Let us rise up higher There’s only one solution Our own revolution

[runawaylibrary]

I want everyone here, for a moment, to imagine what it’s like. Imagine what it’s like, for no one, and I mean no one, to listen to you. Automatically and state-mandatedly dumped into a building for six hours a day, or seven or eight depending on where you are. And you can’t call for change or speak out because you are apparently lying all the time and also can’t speak to anyone usually because that’s somehow bad. I am not kidding when I tell you that there’s a rule for people not to congregate in groups of more than three.

If you did manage to tell someone with an ounce of power, they will laugh in your face as you tell them that abuse is happening, even if it lands someone in a hospital.

As a society, we still believe that it’s okay and your moral imperative to hit people smaller than you. Supposedly it’s training, but that is complete nonsense. People don’t hit their cats but they do hit flesh and blood, living, breathing humans that have no power. Wonderful, look at us, we are so civilized. Then a bunch of problematic stereotypes get pushed so that everyone thinks that all people below the age of eighteen have no braincells and just want to party. Some of us have sensory issues and can’t go to parties, but that’s a human thing to be different, and we aren’t humans. 

If you are not physically abused, you are emotionally abused. Emotions are a human thing, and we aren’t humans, so we don’t get those, it is “just a phase” or “moody teens am I right?”. Yes they are moody, they have every right to be. They have every right to scream at you right now if you think trans genocide is okay, but abolishing problematic institutions is not, we don’t, that’s a blessing for you. Welcome to the world of a child. Oh and some people (those “MAPs”) will try to go after you.

But I am sick and tired of giving blessings to people who want to throw us out. I am sick and tired of giving people who are wasting oxygen with every word they say the comfort of our silence. This is personal. Hey, you, don’t stay quiet. I see you “angry child”. That anger loves you, it knows you can’t be treated badly, cherish it. You are not weak, and there is nothing wrong with you but the world. I see you “trouble kid”, I know you went undiagnosed, but know that there are always people that care about you, you don’t owe people a mask, you don’t owe them an explanation as to why you cannot stand the sound of the cafeteria. I see you queer kid, I am so proud you can hide for this long, and I hold out hope you won’t have to, ‘stranger’ is weaker than ‘together’. 

I love all of you, so much, I live for the fact that you are still around. You deserve just as much as anyone. The only way they’ll let us go, is if we let the flames grow. Go outside and breathe in the wind, feel it on your skin, dance in it, that is what freedom feels like. Like the wind, like the water, we don’t need to grow up, we don’t need to stay quiet. I’ve been waiting far too long to speak to shut up. We need change, not stricter punishment. We are alive right now, we aren’t becoming alive tomorrow. We will be, have been, and are, breathing right now, feeling right now, existing right now. 

[runawaylibrary]

“Children of Spirit and Soul” by Meili_Kese_Analeko

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47741023

Series: Children of Akari (part 5)

Words: 467

Chapters: 1

—————————

I, myself.

Somehow words like that are illegal. It’s not always overt, not always on a billboard. But between the words it is always there.  Always ready to tell you, that you are not owned by yourself. Forcing a person into a strange idea that their own mind does not belong to them. That idea is abhorrent to your very beating heart. It feels wrong, deeply opposite to every instinct. The fact or concept of someone owning your body is disgusting, but someone owning your head is worse. Which is why we fight back. Through a smile hidden behind a bow. Joyful songs of trickery and rebellion. All ways of kicking the system out from your mind. 

From a system so vast there seems no escape. We are told that we are things, tools. The runaway is a criminal, a thief of their own self. To steal oneself is freedom, and freedom, like Inkirke, has a thousand shapes and forms. The runaway exists also as one who runs in spirit. To pretend to be the perfect worker, to be the markra, the sweet-talker, bending words into knots so Deskan may never find your siblings, saying nothing in many words. That is the runaway that will never be caught, because the river cannot be held. The river is change, change is something Deskan cannot defeat, because change is the desert. 

If there is no flight you can still freeze. We are Inkirke’s people, we can change our shape in a way. Be ignorable, weave fog around your eyes so Deskan sees nothing there but sunlight and air. Always remember that no matter what, you will always have our Mother. You will always have the sands on your side. 

“You” is such a wonderful concept. The idea that there is a word that describes the person, on their own, with nothing attached. There’s another word like that too. Free. Free means the wind, it means something that can never be held. It means to be yourself, truly you. Freedom is change, freedom is life. Life needs change. Infinite diversity. Without the union of all that is different and beautiful life would not exist.  At the core of our hearts is the ever-shifting sands. In us a burning fire blazes, like Jadwiga’s blade that always stays with us. Should Deskan take us and hide us, make us cut our hair and lower our voices, we will never bow, because through it all we have our spirit. We have the stories, we have the songs, we have ourselves. Deskan doesn’t own your beating heart. You are the Desert child, free as the untamed wild, sing of the stars, fly across the wind, like the sweet wondrous breeze. 

I am me. You are you. No matter what, that will be stay true.

[runawaylibrary]

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47696485/chapters/120300382#workskin

Series: Children of Akari (part 4)

Words: 805

Chapters: 3/3

—————————

Like the river, always changing Moving on under the sun Like the river, always flowing You are bound by no one

Ekri, you speak with your hands You have the strongest voice Deskan brought you onto his lands And you told us we had a choice

Like the river, always changing Moving on under the sun Like the river, always flowing You are bound by no one

Because you were different You were shone brightest Ekri, like you we are never silent Our breath is the greatest protest

Like the river, always changing Moving on under the sun Like the river, always flowing You are bound by no one

Though Deskan said That you were nothing You were strong instead You showed us that we were something

Like the river, always changing Moving on under the sun Like the river, always flowing You are bound by no one

You brought us a drink Stronger than our blood You gave us a new way to think You gave us hope of a rainstorm’s flood

Like the river, always changing Moving on under the sun Like the river, always flowing You are bound by no one

Ekri, you were in times of old Yet you keep inspiring us all Your story is still now told One day soon rain will fall

Like the river, always changing Moving on under the sun Like the river, always flowing You are bound by no one

“Children of Vengeance and Victory” by Meili_Kese_Analeko

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47696485/chapters/120226777

Series: Children of Akari (part 4)

Words: 805

Chapters: 1/3

—————————

Ekri and Jadwiga are both the same. They will bring us to freedom and rain.

Ekri is infinite diversity. She speaks with her hands, and because of that she is louder than any Deskan’s booming voice. Deskan called her nothing, because deskanta are afraid of difference. Infinite diversity is infinite change. Change is life, it topples empires and bring water to all. The desert’s flowing air, the gentle eddies of a river, the rhyme and rhythm of a song. All examples of change. It cannot be caught, impossible to hold, the sands live on.

Jadwiga is the bringer of change. She is the liberator, breaker of chains. A beautiful flaming blade. She cannot die. In her hands she holds freedom and death, kala se kala. Wind and rain and sand, all the beautiful and powerful change is Jadwiga. The somber beat of a mourning song, the brilliant light of a brand new dawn. All that is, now and forever. Forged into her sword is Akari. The name of her blade is ours, some of us have been given it, Ekaliyya, Jadliyya, Vektoliyya. Names that give us the strength of Jadwiga’s blade. Though Deskan may have all the gold, he has nothing compared to us. He has his pride but we hold each other.

Ekri gave us names too. Ekrilla, Ekrialu, Ekrileko. They give us joy. The beautiful defiance of being different, a breath as a protest. Her name is hung up on banners of celebration. With her we celebrate the ones with new ways to talk. Power rests not in swords but in laughter, for one can be killed but not be dead if your spirit lives on. It lives through secret smiles, the ones that we have in defiance, the tears that we shed though told not to.

But her greatest gift is sera. A drink that is stronger than blood. Sweet and bitter, it empowers our bones, making them fight through it all. It is life, change, flows like the air, the water, the sand. It braids joy and sorrow into our veins. May we liberate on, with sera in our cups.

Jadwiga holds the all and the everything in her hands, and Ekri holds the in-between with her smile.

[runawaylibrary]

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47696485/chapters/120226966#workskin

Series: Children of Akari (part 4)

Words: 805

Chapters: 2/3

—————————

Jadwiga, Zhadwiga Though you bleed A revolution you still lead

Jadwiga she is might Through it all she will fight She told us we would go to the sky Oh, Zhadwiga can never die

Jadwiga, Zhadwiga Though you bleed A revolution you still lead

Jadwiga, light the fire So that we rise up higher The only way they’ll let us go Is if we let the flames grow

Jadwiga, Zhadwiga Though you bleed A revolution you still lead

One day, we’ll have the rain One day, we’ll lose every chain She said “Begin organization” “It’s time to start the revolution”

Jadwiga, Zhadwiga Though you bleed A revolution you still lead

Jadwiga, brightest star You bring hope, near and far Just like Kresta, always there You are the desert’s flowing air

Jadwiga, Zhadwiga Though you bleed A revolution you still lead

Jadwiga, the older sister Of Inkirke, Akari’s Trickster Fighting through dusk and dawn Your movement lives on

Jadwiga, Zhadwiga Though you bleed A revolution you still lead

Jadwiga, burning bright You are our strongest light Zhadwiga, fight every lie You can never die

Jadwiga, Zhadwiga Though you bleed A revolution you still lead

“Children of Vengeance and Victory” by Meili_Kese_Analeko

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47696485/chapters/120226777

Series: Children of Akari (part 4)

Words: 805

Chapters: 1/3

—————————

Ekri and Jadwiga are both the same. They will bring us to freedom and rain.

Ekri is infinite diversity. She speaks with her hands, and because of that she is louder than any Deskan’s booming voice. Deskan called her nothing, because deskanta are afraid of difference. Infinite diversity is infinite change. Change is life, it topples empires and bring water to all. The desert’s flowing air, the gentle eddies of a river, the rhyme and rhythm of a song. All examples of change. It cannot be caught, impossible to hold, the sands live on.

Jadwiga is the bringer of change. She is the liberator, breaker of chains. A beautiful flaming blade. She cannot die. In her hands she holds freedom and death, kala se kala. Wind and rain and sand, all the beautiful and powerful change is Jadwiga. The somber beat of a mourning song, the brilliant light of a brand new dawn. All that is, now and forever. Forged into her sword is Akari. The name of her blade is ours, some of us have been given it, Ekaliyya, Jadliyya, Vektoliyya. Names that give us the strength of Jadwiga’s blade. Though Deskan may have all the gold, he has nothing compared to us. He has his pride but we hold each other.

Ekri gave us names too. Ekrilla, Ekrialu, Ekrileko. They give us joy. The beautiful defiance of being different, a breath as a protest. Her name is hung up on banners of celebration. With her we celebrate the ones with new ways to talk. Power rests not in swords but in laughter, for one can be killed but not be dead if your spirit lives on. It lives through secret smiles, the ones that we have in defiance, the tears that we shed though told not to.

But her greatest gift is sera. A drink that is stronger than blood. Sweet and bitter, it empowers our bones, making them fight through it all. It is life, change, flows like the air, the water, the sand. It braids joy and sorrow into our veins. May we liberate on, with sera in our cups.

Jadwiga holds the all and the everything in her hands, and Ekri holds the in-between with her smile.

[runawaylibrary]

“Children of Vengeance and Victory” by Meili_Kese_Analeko

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47696485/chapters/120226777

Series: Children of Akari (part 4)

Words: 805

Chapters: 1/3

—————————

Ekri and Jadwiga are both the same. They will bring us to freedom and rain.

Ekri is infinite diversity. She speaks with her hands, and because of that she is louder than any Deskan’s booming voice. Deskan called her nothing, because deskanta are afraid of difference. Infinite diversity is infinite change. Change is life, it topples empires and bring water to all. The desert’s flowing air, the gentle eddies of a river, the rhyme and rhythm of a song. All examples of change. It cannot be caught, impossible to hold, the sands live on.

Jadwiga is the bringer of change. She is the liberator, breaker of chains. A beautiful flaming blade. She cannot die. In her hands she holds freedom and death, kala se kala. Wind and rain and sand, all the beautiful and powerful change is Jadwiga. The somber beat of a mourning song, the brilliant light of a brand new dawn. All that is, now and forever. Forged into her sword is Akari. The name of her blade is ours, some of us have been given it, Ekaliyya, Jadliyya, Vektoliyya. Names that give us the strength of Jadwiga’s blade. Though Deskan may have all the gold, he has nothing compared to us. He has his pride but we hold each other.

Ekri gave us names too. Ekrilla, Ekrialu, Ekrileko. They give us joy. The beautiful defiance of being different, a breath as a protest. Her name is hung up on banners of celebration. With her we celebrate the ones with new ways to talk. Power rests not in swords but in laughter, for one can be killed but not be dead if your spirit lives on. It lives through secret smiles, the ones that we have in defiance, the tears that we shed though told not to.

But her greatest gift is sera. A drink that is stronger than blood. Sweet and bitter, it empowers our bones, making them fight through it all. It is life, change, flows like the air, the water, the sand. It braids joy and sorrow into our veins. May we liberate on, with sera in our cups.

Jadwiga holds the all and the everything in her hands, and Ekri holds the in-between with her smile.

[runawaylibrary]

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47656213#main

Series: Children of Akari (part 3)

Words: 558

Chapters: 2/2

—————————

Once upon a time we were free. 

We are free now too, not without chains, but still unfettered. We are free because our stories are our own.

But Deskan fed and still feeds us lies, telling us we do not belong to freedom. I think perhaps we used to believe those stories. Thinking this was our place, but I know, that we deep down feel that this is wrong. Our hearts don’t beat to songs not of sand and rock. In the desert each rock is a different life, the desert is life. The deskanta think of the desert as fear and danger and death. But they never see the beauty, how kind and powerfully fair it is, it is alive. Pulsing with energy. It has gentle rhythms, flowing and protecting its people, we are born in its sands, we die in its arms. 

Stories of the desert are just like the rock it was made in. Energetic, repeating rhymes of freedom and death. Humming and thrumming with life. Impossible to be held by any boundary, making us whole. Both give us the ability to see past all obstacles. Secret like the nighttime, raging on like the sandstorm, full of spirit like Kyrikala day, bittersweet and beautiful. It has the hidden laughter, ancient promises of revolution written with a steady hand. Kala se kala. 

Deskan’s stories have nothing but pain. But ours have promises of rain. We will be free. Marikanza has a deliberate path across the sky, the prophecies will endure, they are true. Forever is a second, a moment an eternity. 

Inkirke, Jadwiga, Kyrilla, Marika, Kresta, Lokal, Katri. Our heroes, they are the ones who will give and have given us freedom. Even though Deskan has is power, we have bright fires, burning in the night. Promised rain showers, an everlasting fight. Nothing is as inextinguishable as hope. We are free in life and death, in tears and laughter, in all defiance secret and open. The smiles that we keep through it all, the tears we shed though we have been told not to. 

Kala se kala is the way of the desert. The core of every single story. Bold, uncensored, fierce. One cannot hold it, and that is why deskanta fear it, it is something they can never chain. We are the children of the desert. Wild and untamed. We are that rhythmic ebb and flow.

Always and never are the balance that bind all together, the songs, the stories, the desert, and our beautiful, free selves. 

“Children of Song and Story” by Meili_Kese_Analeko

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47656213#main

Series: Children of Akari (part 3)

Words: 558

Chapters: 1/2

—————————

Long ago when freed We chose what to read Not books made of lies Use to mute rebellion cries

Deskan fed us deception So we wouldn’t give Inkirke reception But then we heard the desert song And we knew that all of it was wrong

We tell each other stories All containing ancient prophecies That one day we will all fly That one day we’ll be able to rise so high

We tell stories of Kyrilla And the joy of Kyrikala The power of mighty Kresta And the end of deskanta

We sing songs about the rain How it will end our pain Of how we stole back the water And of our secret laughter

We learned infinite diversity To protect ourselves during adversity We must keep our stories in our hearts With our freedom we’ll never part

[runawaylibrary]

“Children of Song and Story” by Meili_Kese_Analeko

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47656213#main

Series: Children of Akari (part 3)

Words: 558

Chapters: 1/2

—————————

Long ago when freed We chose what to read Not books made of lies Use to mute rebellion cries

Deskan fed us deception So we wouldn’t give Inkirke reception But then we heard the desert song And we knew that all of it was wrong

We tell each other stories All containing ancient prophecies That one day we will all fly That one day we’ll be able to rise so high

We tell stories of Kyrilla And the joy of Kyrikala The power of mighty Kresta And the end of deskanta

We sing songs about the rain How it will end our pain Of how we stole back the water And of our secret laughter

We learned infinite diversity To protect ourselves during adversity We must keep our stories in our hearts With our freedom we’ll never part

[runawaylibrary]

“Look Up” by Meili_Kese_Analeko

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47580913

Series: None

Words: 219

Chapters: 1/1

—————————

We looked up to the stars Saw Jadwiga the Liberator, chin held high Blade raised into the sky There we saw freedom and death

We looked up to the stars Saw Kyrilla the Life Bringer, crying with a smile Oh and the way it was, it was wide a mile There we saw freedom and death

We looked up to the stars Saw a red bird with crimson wing On the ground we heard them sing There we saw freedom and death

We looked up to the stars Saw a dragon with scales bright white She would always help us fight There we saw freedom and death

We looked up to the stars Saw a child with balm and a song He always healed wound and wrong There we saw freedom and death

We looked up to the stars Saw a girl with laughter and a new way to talk She was hidden, but with us she would walk There we saw freedom and death

We looked up to the stars Saw a spirit named Anya that brought the Rain One day she’ll return and break all chain There we saw freedom and death

We looked up to the stars Saw our mother with loving hands Told us to always respect the lands There we saw freedom and death

[runawaylibrary]

“The Colors of Akari” by Meili_Kese_Analeko

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47519962

Series: None

Words: 188

Chapters: 1/1

—————————

Nara is the color of the water Of hidden celebration and Ekri’s secret laughter It is the color of the clear sky And of our hope that one day we’ll fly

Tener is the color of life A light in the sky that cuts like a knife Of plants in the desert that live through it all We too can stand so great and tall

Tave is the color of sweet sera Of our freedom and Anyari’s Marikanza The color of our blood It is the wish of a Rainstorm’s flood

Taph is the color of the sands Of the dream that one day Deskan will leave these lands The burning light of mighty bright Kresta For she is the spirit of happy Kyrikala

Rakve is the color of a fire Of Jadwiga’s strong blade that helped us fly higher It is the color of the warmth of our Mother And a flame that Deskan never will smother

To the end of all deskanta Since we are the color of Kala I say this not to cause you strife I sing you this song to save your life

[runawaylibrary]

“Children of Water and Wind” by Meili_Kese_Analeko

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47656213#main

Series: Children of Akari (part 2)

Words: 571

Chapters: 1/1

—————————

Blue is such a pretty color, blue like the ocean, filled with water, beautiful and clear and free.

Water swishes in my cup, holding up sweet sera. Red like the blood that pulses through us all here. 

Blue like the sky, each sip of the cup breathes out another wish that we could be in it, that the desert could hold us once more.

We want to fly, to sing and dance to the rhythm that forms the air, swooping curves like the ink that falls from our pens as we write and carve into our pendants. We carve blessings, like Ratta for endurance, Ectu for secrecy, Atira for love. That’s it, blue like Ecturi, swiftest in the stars. She holds our secrets and runs so none can take them. The only thing no one can own is our hearts. Running, running like those brave ones do and did and will do, the wind charging the feet with energy to escape.

Blue like some of our eyes, looking at each other. Eyes that know here our thoughts are mutual, love, cherish this, always, never, remember. Like some odd dream where we are all free, and I can hold anything forever without fear that it isn’t mine, not even my own soul. Soft and light and joy, hidden festivals not because we are afraid but because this is too special for anyone but children of the desert.  Here we weep and smile all at once, eating berries painting the few plants a deep indigo. We own ourselves in this space, we get to feel hope, even if this place would be burned down if the masters caught wind. Simple embraces that hold so much in a moment, pushing up the air with their pure happiness. That very second exists in such a beautiful in-between, where nothing and everything is touching and touched. Kala is defined here. Unity is tangible, real, not just a concept that cannot occur because of chain and bar. 

Blue like the banners blowing in the air. We hang them up every year, here in desert where we can let it take them, so it can remember the joy and sadness for us. Each one crackles in an Aila brought breeze. Aila is like a smaller version of Anya in a way, and Lukarak is her equal in a way too. All bringers of freedom. Aila blows by us, around us, letting us pass as honored people of the sands, Lukarak is the guard, flying behind us to cover our tracks and keeping the deskanta away. 

That beautiful gray blue that makes up Anya is the most powerful sight, strong and flowing and alive. We all yearn to feel it one day, the rainstorm in the sky as it rages on and breaks chain after chain. The true sweetness of freedom comes stolen, when we say it is ours to have, that we have a self, I am, you are, we live and breath with every right to do it as anyone else. Kala se kala is written in that awe-inspiring time.

Blue like water, like the water in tears. The ones of the desert as it calls for its precious children, the ones we shed and refuse to shed in defiance, making a small rain that frees us in our hearts, the tears we give up now, as on this beautiful, dark, powerful day, we are sold away.

[runawaylibrary]

what is this blog?

This is library for student made myths. Student myths are a part of youth lib that seeks to unite people with mythology.

The main author here will be Meili_Kese_Analeko (ao3), but SparksInTheNight’s content might be posted as well.

The Runaway’s Library agrees with NYRA’s Student Bill of Rights.

Kala se Kala