A little something I wrote about identity and the abbey that shares my birth name
Isaiah 49:1
Eder is me. It is the sun on my skin, my friends having coffee on a bar terrace. It is Uli lying among daisies. It is work well done and the ache in my bones when I return from the farm.
Leyre is also me. It is a nameless prayer beside the river in Belagua, the feeling of cold water between my fingers cleansing as it passes. It is the reverberation of my voice, my old voice, my new voice, resonating high and low through my spine as a live wire. It is the tears of my nightly walks that I allow Him alone to see.
It is Eder who carries me there and yet, it is with Leyre that I touch the stones of its walls. But when He looks at me He sees us as one. Both and neither. For from my mother’s womb He pronounced my name, and all that remains for me is to lift my eyes toward His face.