My great-grandmother stood on that glacier when it was forever. Hoicked up memsahib skirts above its dazzle, stepped out dainty in Edwardian button-boots. Looked up, awed to dumbness by the endless Himalayas, white on blue. Looked down, brought to tears by the far turquoise of a glacial lake.

I, her grey-haired questing heir, an eco-warrior weaponless and grieving, hold her dogeared photo in my hand.

Under sandaled feet 

Flayed rock now 
more grey than white 

The place is recognisable 
only from the sun’s slant 
across the valley. 

—Long-Listed Finalist in MacQ’s Cheribun Challenge #2

Patience Mackarness

lives and writes in Brittany, France. She likes writing about nature, the sea, and strange old women. Her work has appeared in Citron Review, Free Flash Fiction, JMWW, MacQueen’s Quinterly, and elsewhere. She had never heard of cheribun before this Challenge.