Post by Nim on Jun 11, 2015 1:38:53 GMT
The sky was tumult and gray as I was. But She are not human, She should not feel grief, yet I do . And mine is a ravaging churning river in the pit of me making me ill. I grind my small white hands into the ground and tear at the earth and toss the grass as I look down into the empty face of my father that looks back, and my eyes are just as his but lively and blooming big wonder-filled tears as I reflect that my eyes are just as his. His face old and craggy and gray and white, this man had lived a long fulfilling life. The knowledge should satisfy but does not! I am not ready to let him go, I am not ready.. to be alone, lost. But the hot summer morning with its humid purple clouds is moving on, and I must reach for my destiny, this world forsakes the weak, he once said, and favours the strong. So I stand as a shadow over his chest, a small child in a brown stained dress.
She have rituals for their dead. And so I began to prepare for what lie ahead. Water from the babbling brook, and the colored war clays from the jars in the nook. I washed his tired wrinkled brow, amazed at its maze, and placed two engraved coppers over his once luminous gaze. I washed down my father, as he did I as a babe, and painted him a warrior has he had been in the day. Those days when the humans were at war, and we lent our hand, the She people of Earth, of the Sky, Rock and the Sand. I went back to our simple hut carved out of an old tree, and brought out his death garments and wrapped him one, two, three. I brushed out his beautiful white mane and braided and it by now I was trembling, shivering, every bit of my still unbelieving that he was gone.
A She, never weeps, but I kneel over him and rub my tear stained face on his chest. "Don't make do this" I whisper as I clutch a stone and wood chisel to my chest. As if he heard me , a crash of lightning and thunder startled me from above. With goosebumps delivered to my body, with my heart pounding in my chest, I placed my chisel on his old gray forehead and gave it a sound tap. With the knife I served the parts of his mind on a platter, slicing away his true heart, his wisdom and knowledge and then placed it on the ground. I was beside myself and sick as I placed his skull back where it once sat. She believed in imbibing ones spirit and knowledge, I was always queasy at these events, and now I sat there shaking and was preforming the last.
Dragging his heavy body onto the deliverance raft. I wreathed him in the bright tulips, lilacs and poppy that in life that he loved best. A crown of ivy and eagle feathers, gems and tokens glittering against the dying day, I gathered all the candles, and was soon on my way. Pulled by one bright white oxen, we walked together one last time to the river. And once there I stood with agony and exhaustion.
They say She were here before man, and before they took human's form, they could have been anything from a jellyfishes tentacles to a raging storm. If my father was one thing, he was a healer, and these waters were always warm, so I think he started off a ripple or bubble in a river the day that he was born. I had lit each candle carefully before he drifted away and in the dying light, he glows vibrant, and alive in my heart for just for one last moment, one last day.
I feel the emptiness before me , it yaws never to be changed as I chase the raft down the river , eventually losing it in my sight, and just as I turn away, the skies let go of all the pain, the anger, the grief , and bitter acceptance of this long gray morning, and oncoming night. I look up and catch all the skies tears on the pale moon of my face, and reflect that I could never forget his teachings, the sounds of his laughter, above all the love, the pure , belief he had in Me.
She have rituals for their dead. And so I began to prepare for what lie ahead. Water from the babbling brook, and the colored war clays from the jars in the nook. I washed his tired wrinkled brow, amazed at its maze, and placed two engraved coppers over his once luminous gaze. I washed down my father, as he did I as a babe, and painted him a warrior has he had been in the day. Those days when the humans were at war, and we lent our hand, the She people of Earth, of the Sky, Rock and the Sand. I went back to our simple hut carved out of an old tree, and brought out his death garments and wrapped him one, two, three. I brushed out his beautiful white mane and braided and it by now I was trembling, shivering, every bit of my still unbelieving that he was gone.
A She, never weeps, but I kneel over him and rub my tear stained face on his chest. "Don't make do this" I whisper as I clutch a stone and wood chisel to my chest. As if he heard me , a crash of lightning and thunder startled me from above. With goosebumps delivered to my body, with my heart pounding in my chest, I placed my chisel on his old gray forehead and gave it a sound tap. With the knife I served the parts of his mind on a platter, slicing away his true heart, his wisdom and knowledge and then placed it on the ground. I was beside myself and sick as I placed his skull back where it once sat. She believed in imbibing ones spirit and knowledge, I was always queasy at these events, and now I sat there shaking and was preforming the last.
Dragging his heavy body onto the deliverance raft. I wreathed him in the bright tulips, lilacs and poppy that in life that he loved best. A crown of ivy and eagle feathers, gems and tokens glittering against the dying day, I gathered all the candles, and was soon on my way. Pulled by one bright white oxen, we walked together one last time to the river. And once there I stood with agony and exhaustion.
They say She were here before man, and before they took human's form, they could have been anything from a jellyfishes tentacles to a raging storm. If my father was one thing, he was a healer, and these waters were always warm, so I think he started off a ripple or bubble in a river the day that he was born. I had lit each candle carefully before he drifted away and in the dying light, he glows vibrant, and alive in my heart for just for one last moment, one last day.
I feel the emptiness before me , it yaws never to be changed as I chase the raft down the river , eventually losing it in my sight, and just as I turn away, the skies let go of all the pain, the anger, the grief , and bitter acceptance of this long gray morning, and oncoming night. I look up and catch all the skies tears on the pale moon of my face, and reflect that I could never forget his teachings, the sounds of his laughter, above all the love, the pure , belief he had in Me.