2017 04 24
After chasing him through meadows of trees,
up winding trails in jagged mountain vale,
I corner him at narrow canyon cliff,
aiming sharp spear at his chest as we pant
for breath in blustering wind of despair.
"When my sister refused to marry you,
you shattered her head with a jagged rock
and blood of her soul stains the garden soil
where she tended fresh herbs to spice our meals,
and now her spirit is gone from this world."
Fierce rage for revenge seizes my wild heart,
so I grip spear and brace my feet on rocks,
then lean forward to thrust spear in his heart,
but I look at his eyes and see despair
at horror of his act tear through his heart.
Sucking deep cold wind of hard mountain ice,
I fill my soul with spirit of calm strength,
secure as silent mountains that stand tall
since before the rising of the first sun,
so I strike spear against the stone of truth.
Gripping his neck, I drag him down the trail
and bring him into the ring of black stones
where thirty women from dozens of clans
sit in sun circle and judge deeds of men,
and declare before all, "He killed my sister."
Messengers bring members of both our clans
who stand facing each other in stone ring,
and I explain, "While my hard-working sister
tended herbs he asked her to marry him,
then smashed her head when she refused his hand."
Young woman in white robe, who bears brass scepter
with gleaming sapphire that flashes in sunlight,
stands before his face and asks, "Tell us all,
why did you strike her head with stone of hate,
knowing women are free to choose their husband?"
Face twisted by lust and grief, he cries out,
"I brought her baskets of flowers and eggs,
I brought her bundles of wood for hearth fire,
and I gave her cauldron for cooking meals,
yet she refused to bear children for me."
Snarling in rage, he hisses at her face,
"I gave her many gifts from generous heart,
and she accepted all with open hands,
and everyone knows that accepting gifts
means she will attend my hearth as bed mate."
Young woman whacks his head with sapphire scepter,
and proclaims with stern voice for all to hear,
"While acceptance of gifts from hand of man
means woman may bear children of his seed,
yet she reserves the right to change her mind."
Shaking her head at his blind ignorance,
she exclaims, "No matter how many gifts
you gave her, expecting gift in return,
you should never kill should she refuse you,
for her will to choose is most sacred law."
Turning and pointing scepter at his face,
she cries, "You did not give her gifts with love,
expecting nothing from her generous heart,
so since you gave expecting more from her
your gifts were tainted foul with selfish lust."
Old woman with long silver hair and eyes
that flash with golden light of midnight stars,
rises and speaks, "Because woman bears children
she chooses who will spark life in her womb,
thus life of every woman is most sacred."
Pointing gold scepter with bright emerald
at his face, she declares judgment of justice,
"You killed sacred woman who creates life,
therefore you will bring firewood to all hearths,
but no woman will ever bear your children."
Two men clutch his arms so he screams in horror,
then a third man clutches his genitals
while young woman saws it off with a knife,
and everyone cringes at screams of pain
that cease when he faints and falls on the grass.
Young woman stands before my face and smiles,
"Because you brought him to our Hall of Justice
instead of killing him in mountain vale,
we appoint you Hunter with noble task
to hunt criminals and bring them to us."
Entranced by the glow of light in her eyes,
blue as the sapphire gleaming on her scepter,
I blush and kneel as she places gold crown
with glittering sapphire on my humble head,
then after I stand she kisses my mouth.
Heart beating fast as a galloping horse,
I turn to leave but she clutches my arms,
and whispers, "I want you as my hearth mate,"
so I follow her to small temple hall
where I stand guard before the carved oak door.
When moon gleams silver on the shining lake
she holds my hand and pulls me to her bed
where we kiss and make love in midnight breeze,
and I fill her heart with spirit of love
as we fly together among white stars.
Bringing bundles of wood to temple hall,
I build new wagon with four spinning wheels
while she tends apple trees of swelling fruit,
and our son, sitting upright in oak box,
claps his hands and laughs when I dance and sing.