Girl Who Talks To Stars
© Surazeus
2018 03 06
Stone heavy she crouches under the tree
clawing at sharp agony of her heart
on the sun-blasted hill bulging up hard
at the shimmering sky that blusters her face.
Numb in the silent twilight of nowhere
she stares forever at the clouds of fire
that flash and swirl beyond the end of time
shivering in the blankness of sudden night.
Countless stars appear flashing in the sky
and blink as they stare silently at her
while sending breezes to whisper despair
in the echoing hollow of her ear.
Call me girl who talks to stars for my heart
shatters into countless fragments of light
since I broke out of the shell of my dreams
like the new-born crow who flaps baby wings.
I lived inside that village all my life,
playing chase with my family among the trees
till we stopped and carved our faces in mud
to sing the deed-name of each smiling face.
We sat around the flickering fires at night
and sang stories about our walking times
while our mothers filled our wood bowls with food
and we woke at dawn to splash in the river.
The old man who brings us wood every day
took me alone to the cave of his eyes
where he stabbed my soul with hard grunting lust
but I hit him in the head with a rock.
When I ran to the village to escape
he shouted that I tried to steal his food
and the old blind mother of our whole clan
banished me to wander the wilderness.
I feel like he crushed my heart with the rock
and the roof of my family collapsed
exposing me to the hunger of wind
so I fall dizzy into the vast sky.
Instead of calling me by my deed-name,
girl who hops like the crow along the river,
they called me girl who steals food from the cave,
as they erased my deed-name from the mud.
I call myself girl heavy as the rock
who talks to stars underneath the mute tree
when sorrow crushes her body to dust
and waits for wind to erase her wet eyes.
I call myself girl whose eyes bleed the rain
that floods the world with anguish of despair
so she swallows the wind that blasts the sky
and becomes the rock that crushed out her heart.
I call myself girl who laughs at the moon
who cares nothing about her aching heart
so she leaps to her feet and dances wild
and becomes the wind that talks to the stars.
Leaping to her feet, the girl dances wild,
twirling around and leaping at the sky,
then runs around the tree a dozen times,
then somersaults till she falls in the dust.
Lying flat on her back beside mute tree,
the girl who laughs at the moon shrieks in rage,
howling at the stars that ignores her voice,
and then she giggles and rolls in the dust.
I call myself girl who crawls in the dust
like the snake that hisses with flickering tongue
and slithers in shadows of nameless fear
to steal the face of the crone without eyes.
Creeping into the village at midnight,
the girl who crawls in the dust like the snake
glides through shadows into every large hut
and takes one thing from everyone she knows.
Hauling basket of things she stole, she climbs
rugged hill to the cave of the wood man
and stands over him while he snores asleep,
soaking in the moonlight of careless truth.
Grasping the rock, she raises it up high,
and pauses, poised to crush his head to mush,
but then she smiles and walks back to the village
where she sparks bright fire in the ring of stones.
Floating light as wind by the singing fire,
girl who hops like the crow along the river
laughs when everyone runs outside their doors,
exclaiming that someone stole all their things.
Why are you all looking at me, she laughs,
as you accuse me of stealing your things,
but do you see things in my empty hands,
because I never stole food from wood man.
I saw wood man come down from his dark cave
and steal your things in the silent moonlight,
so go climb the rugged hill to his cave
and look for the things missing from your homes.
Climbing the tree where the crows flap their wings,
girl who slithers like the snake in the dust
watches villagers return with the wood man
and the basket full of the things that they lost.
Standing in the tree and spreading her arms,
Hopping Crow shouts, banish the one who steals,
so the villagers throw stones at his head
and he falls bleeding to shriek in the dust.
I am the stone of heaviness, she cries,
then hurls stone that knocks wood man over dead,
and the villagers dance around her tree,
howling as she becomes the whirling wind.
Leaping from the tree, Hopping Crow stands bold
before the old blind mother of the clan,
then snatches the wand of truth from her hand
and declares, now I am mother of souls.
Stone heavy she sits on the talking chair
while everyone sits in circle of faces,
and Hopping Crow chants tale of the lost girl
who found the fire of truth in silent stars.
Call me girl who talks to the heavy stone
and dances with the stars in swirling wind
and hops along the river like the crow
and knows how the darkness creates the light.
Call me girl whose eyes make wide rivers flow
and sparks the stars from the dust of the ground
and talks to the snake in the tree of fruit
and watches you with the eye of the sun.
Call me girl who talks to stars for my eyes
see through your faces to feel wind of life
that molds our bodies from the river mud
for I am Hopping Crow born from the stone.
© Surazeus
2018 03 06
Stone heavy she crouches under the tree
clawing at sharp agony of her heart
on the sun-blasted hill bulging up hard
at the shimmering sky that blusters her face.
Numb in the silent twilight of nowhere
she stares forever at the clouds of fire
that flash and swirl beyond the end of time
shivering in the blankness of sudden night.
Countless stars appear flashing in the sky
and blink as they stare silently at her
while sending breezes to whisper despair
in the echoing hollow of her ear.
Call me girl who talks to stars for my heart
shatters into countless fragments of light
since I broke out of the shell of my dreams
like the new-born crow who flaps baby wings.
I lived inside that village all my life,
playing chase with my family among the trees
till we stopped and carved our faces in mud
to sing the deed-name of each smiling face.
We sat around the flickering fires at night
and sang stories about our walking times
while our mothers filled our wood bowls with food
and we woke at dawn to splash in the river.
The old man who brings us wood every day
took me alone to the cave of his eyes
where he stabbed my soul with hard grunting lust
but I hit him in the head with a rock.
When I ran to the village to escape
he shouted that I tried to steal his food
and the old blind mother of our whole clan
banished me to wander the wilderness.
I feel like he crushed my heart with the rock
and the roof of my family collapsed
exposing me to the hunger of wind
so I fall dizzy into the vast sky.
Instead of calling me by my deed-name,
girl who hops like the crow along the river,
they called me girl who steals food from the cave,
as they erased my deed-name from the mud.
I call myself girl heavy as the rock
who talks to stars underneath the mute tree
when sorrow crushes her body to dust
and waits for wind to erase her wet eyes.
I call myself girl whose eyes bleed the rain
that floods the world with anguish of despair
so she swallows the wind that blasts the sky
and becomes the rock that crushed out her heart.
I call myself girl who laughs at the moon
who cares nothing about her aching heart
so she leaps to her feet and dances wild
and becomes the wind that talks to the stars.
Leaping to her feet, the girl dances wild,
twirling around and leaping at the sky,
then runs around the tree a dozen times,
then somersaults till she falls in the dust.
Lying flat on her back beside mute tree,
the girl who laughs at the moon shrieks in rage,
howling at the stars that ignores her voice,
and then she giggles and rolls in the dust.
I call myself girl who crawls in the dust
like the snake that hisses with flickering tongue
and slithers in shadows of nameless fear
to steal the face of the crone without eyes.
Creeping into the village at midnight,
the girl who crawls in the dust like the snake
glides through shadows into every large hut
and takes one thing from everyone she knows.
Hauling basket of things she stole, she climbs
rugged hill to the cave of the wood man
and stands over him while he snores asleep,
soaking in the moonlight of careless truth.
Grasping the rock, she raises it up high,
and pauses, poised to crush his head to mush,
but then she smiles and walks back to the village
where she sparks bright fire in the ring of stones.
Floating light as wind by the singing fire,
girl who hops like the crow along the river
laughs when everyone runs outside their doors,
exclaiming that someone stole all their things.
Why are you all looking at me, she laughs,
as you accuse me of stealing your things,
but do you see things in my empty hands,
because I never stole food from wood man.
I saw wood man come down from his dark cave
and steal your things in the silent moonlight,
so go climb the rugged hill to his cave
and look for the things missing from your homes.
Climbing the tree where the crows flap their wings,
girl who slithers like the snake in the dust
watches villagers return with the wood man
and the basket full of the things that they lost.
Standing in the tree and spreading her arms,
Hopping Crow shouts, banish the one who steals,
so the villagers throw stones at his head
and he falls bleeding to shriek in the dust.
I am the stone of heaviness, she cries,
then hurls stone that knocks wood man over dead,
and the villagers dance around her tree,
howling as she becomes the whirling wind.
Leaping from the tree, Hopping Crow stands bold
before the old blind mother of the clan,
then snatches the wand of truth from her hand
and declares, now I am mother of souls.
Stone heavy she sits on the talking chair
while everyone sits in circle of faces,
and Hopping Crow chants tale of the lost girl
who found the fire of truth in silent stars.
Call me girl who talks to the heavy stone
and dances with the stars in swirling wind
and hops along the river like the crow
and knows how the darkness creates the light.
Call me girl whose eyes make wide rivers flow
and sparks the stars from the dust of the ground
and talks to the snake in the tree of fruit
and watches you with the eye of the sun.
Call me girl who talks to stars for my eyes
see through your faces to feel wind of life
that molds our bodies from the river mud
for I am Hopping Crow born from the stone.
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