Leather Satchel Of His Heart

Leather Satchel Of His Heart
© Surazeus
2026 05 24

Young boy fills leather satchel of his heart 
with forgotten tales his ancestors lived 
encased in seeds he gathers from the woods, 
then stands on mud shore of the timeless lake 
to gaze in liquid beauty of the sky 
that shows him face his progenitors wore. 

When sparrow in the elm tree by the lake 
sings sacred formula for thoughts of rain, 
young boy runs back to small hut by the stone 
where his grandmother sings with raspy voice, 
so he holds her hand as she smiles at him 
then vanishes in white smoke of the fire. 

White smoke becomes huge clouds above black hills 
that drench their jagged sorrows in cold rain 
which swirls in rivers over roots of trees 
where shadow of the young boy disappears 
till flash of lightning luminates his face 
that mimics demon mask of innocence. 

Three men, who shot old woman in her heart 
because she would not yield her bowl of gold, 
shriek terrified at sight of his red mask, 
so they fire rifles with bullets of rage 
at elusive demon that haunts their camp, 
but shoot each other in the gloom instead. 

Young boy fills leather satchel of his heart 
with memories of songs his grandmother sang 
encased in her bones he carves into flutes, 
then stares at wavering mask of his face 
that gleams in liquid beauty of the sky 
but ripples from tears that fall from his eyes. 

Twanging taut chord of his yew hunting bow, 
young boy recites songs his grandmother sang 
that recount adventures in mountain vales 
of Wolf Boy and Raven Girl who unite 
to protect the poor from greed of the rich 
and free the people from cruel tyranny. 

Young boy fills leather satchel of his heart 
with textbooks, rulers, pencils, and notepads, 
then walks small-town streets to the public school 
where he attends classes on liberal arts 
to study nature of the universe 
by utilizing tools of measurement. 

Songs of my grandmother glow in my heart 
ten thousand years of conscious energy 
that conjure virtual model of the world 
which I improve with weird secrets I learn 
so I can bequeath vision of the truth 
to children who spring from dream of my heart.