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Page: Profile: Poetry
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Poem Specs
VxPoem ID: 28994
Category:
society_culture
Posted: June 19th. 2007 8:18:29 AM
Views: 322 |
White Road
by Bill Maxwell
Age Group: Adult
I start this story in a traditional way, telling you whom I believe myself to be. I have been named William Two-Roads. I carry the blood of Osage, Cymry, Northmen and An-as within me. My ancestors’ bones back to four generations lie in the land of Tovangar, on the western coast of what some call Turtle Island. I am the first to grow up in southernmost edge of the Chumash lands. I am grandchild to Tukupar Itar – Sky Coyote -- and I love him with all my heart.
I tell these stories as I found them. Some tell them differently.
They are stories my people tell of how things came to be.
0.
In the beginning was the Void,
And all was darkness.
And from that dark ocean came the Voice,
And from that Voice came the Chorus.
And from their Song unfolded all things.
Both high and low, through, and about,
Creation unfurled like a flower.
And when the Chorus saw what they had done,
They laughed.
From that laughter came jewels,
Dizzy stars dancing to the song of Night.
Red, orange, yellow, green, and blue
Bright and fiery and passionate.
As they danced, they spun off partners,
Beautiful marbles of swirling colors.
Planets and stars, spinning and whirling,
All dancing to the song of the Chorus.
When the time was right,
Life was birthed into the world,
And all life looked to the heavens.
And they saw the dance of the planets
And they saw the dance of the stars
And they heard the Voice of the Chorus
And they
Began
To sing.
1.
Here, in this place
That we call Home,
In the Dawn Time
When the world
Was hot and young,
The Earth danced
To the Song of Creation.
Then one day she scooped up some mud
And held it in her hands, like a bowl.
And she shook bits of Herself into it.
And she waited
For the seeds she’d planted
To grow.
There inside the clay
The seeds staid sleeping
Until the fingers of creation
Danced upon the surface of the world.
Then came the First Ones
Bursting into life
And with their first cry
They sent out the Breath Of Life
Across the world
And called down the Rain
Filling the oceans.
From that time to this,
From this time to that,
Our life comes from the Oceans
Called down by the First Ones
And to them, we return.
2.
Now this story, here.
This is an origin story, the story of our ancestors.
This is a story about where we come from.
This is a story about who we are.
Six million years ago, we came from the forest.
There, we learned to walk on two legs,
Reaching up to the treetops,
Striding across the ground.
Our way, one way among many,
No better or worse than the others.
But the world changed,
As the world always changes
The trees moved back,
Giving way to the plains.
Fields of grass, stretching from sky to sky
On two legs, we could see above the grass
And watch for the cats that hunted us.
We moved near the waters,
The rivers, lakes, seas
Protected us.
We learned to swim for our food,
To hunt fish and gather
That which lived in the water.
And the waters changed us.
And we changed with the waters.
We became human.
We ran with the wolves, the dogs, the packs
Learning their ways, making them human ways
Weaving the tribes of humanity.
Forging the friendships with the four-legged
That would last
Tens of thousands of years
And would never be forgotten.
The First Ones had skin as dark
As the rich, black earth.
They were the first to discover
The Song of Creation.
They told the first stories,
Of Anansi and Ellegua, Shango and !Xu.
They sang the first prayers and danced the first revels.
They searched out the first mysteries
And had the first adventures, traveling out
From the birthplace of man into a world
That had never seen them before.
This time, the world changed them,
As it changes all things.
The wayfarer’s skin became yellow as sand,
Brown as the forest soil,
Red as clay.
Some of them took the greatest journey of all,
Crossing the World Ocean,
Following the Sea Forest,
To arrive in Grey Whale’s land and Turtle Island
To discover new songs and stories
Unknown to the people.
3.
There are some who tell a story,
Those who are cousin to my blood
Whose name means “United, ”
They tell this story
That the Creator gave to the races of men
Instructions on how to live.
Creator understood that as man moved out
From the center of all things,
They would explore creation
And so needed guidance.
So four grandfather spirits were created
To guard the four sacred spirit bundles
That held within them the stories
That would show each race their Road.
And the sacred bundles were given
One each to the races of man.
As these bundles went out,
Some who followed were lost along the way
And it caused much confusion.
But they knew that one day,
The bundles would return.
When the entire world had been explored.
When the four races of man had journeyed
To the end of their travels
They would return to the center
And as they did
The sacred bundles would scoop
Up the lost ones,
Bringing them, regardless of skin
Back to understanding,
Back to the Center.
The bundles were that powerful.
This, my cousins believed.
I believe we know the direction
Of those who followed the Red Bundle.
It is the direction of Life.
Those of the Red Road
Transformed entire continents
Gardening them into great homes for the People.
The White Bundle can also be known
For it can be seen in the steps
Of those who followed it.
It is the direction of Death.
Those of the White Road
Know where it leads.
Understand this:
We pray to six directions.
There is east, north, south, west.
There is the up, the home of Origin.
There is down, the earth, the Great Mother.
Death lies in the 7th direction.
Death lies in both the future and the past
Over the horizon and deep underground.
Death lies in the direction that
Cannot be pointed to, cannot be found.
And still, we traveled to it.
4.
Our skins were not always as pale as they are now.
The first lessons we learned about Death
Is that Death takes things apart.
It makes them smaller.
It cuts them open, claws at them.
Piece by piece taking them
Until they are all gone.
Some call this “logic.”
We followed the Northern Horizon
Watched as the lands changed
Kept our learning to ourselves
Kept to the path.
But then we came to a place so fearsome
Death consumed Spirit Itself
The Mountains of Ice,
The Devouring Cold
Killing but preserving
Eating through the Great Mother.
We knew fear, then.
Unchecked, this force could slay the world
And end all life.
So we resolved to challenge Death
For the world.
Two were sent out, Red Clay and Earth Woman
Whose names were also known as “Strong Willed” and “Sacred One”
Fearsome warriors they were and poets.
Married, husband and wife, united in spirit,
They took the task of defending the people
And were sent with weapons, gifts and words.
They marched into the Ice, scared they would
Never see their people again
But firm in their path.
For a long time they marched
Until they came to the edge of the world
In that desolate place, they saw a tree
Growing between the edge of fire and ice
Not far beyond the tree was a mountain
Its top hollowed like a bowl.
Filled with liquid fire
So hot it turned life to ash
In an instant.
The mirror to the cold around it.
Red Clay and Earth Woman knew
At this place, they could enter
The lands of the Dead.
For their people studied Death
And knew its ways.
They found a cave into
That solemn place.
Their weapons broke as
They fought their way past
Guardians that kept
The dead from the living.
Their gifts were lost to ancestors
Waiting just inside for a mere
Taste of Life.
Near naked, and alone, they entered
The deep realms of the Unliving
Armed only with words.
And there between
The flame and the chill
They found the Old Ones
Spirits of Fire and Stone
Great presences with ember eyes
And liquid rock lacing their limbs
Who remembered a time
Before the Great Mother
Spread her seed upon the land.
Who remembered the fiery rock
That once danced
To the naked power of the sun.
“Who are you?” they asked
“To come before us,
Clothed in living flesh?”
“We seek to petition the Lords of the Dead”
Said Red Clay
“We seek to free the spirit of the Mother.”
Said Earth Woman.
And the Old Ones laughed.
“We are not Death.” they replied.
“We are the Gods of Change.
All things come to us in the end.
Even the Great Mother.”
Red Clay and Earth Woman pleaded their case,
They used every languid, gracious word
Given to them by the people.
Dripping poetry from their tongues
Like sweet droplets
Of honeyed hope.
But the Gods of Change were unmoved.
Even words die after a time.
Red Clay and Earth Woman
Silently mourned
As they prepared for their end
When suddenly, Red Clay felt
A present he had carved for his daughter.
A small thing, the only thing left to them
After their many trials.
“If Gods of Change you are, ” Red Clay said
Holding a pair of dice in front of him,
“Then gamble with us for the world.”
The ember eyes glittered briefly and the gods agreed.
They would gamble for the life of the world.
Red Clay stepped forward and prayed for his people
For all the ancestors stood behind him now.
And he rolled those dice and it was good.
But those stone gods scooped up the dice.
And one of them blew on it with a chill breath.
They threw those dice and they bounced once.
Red Clay lost and was gone.
His wife stared at the ashes who were once her love
And some of her fire dimmed,
And her skin grew paler
But she was set and determined
To fight for her children, and her people
She took up the dice and repeated the offer
To gamble for the spirit of the world.
And they accepted.
Earth Woman stepped forward
And prayed for her children
For all her descendants stood before her now.
And she rolled those dice and it was good.
But those stone gods picked up the dice.
And one of the them blew on it with his fiery breath.
They threw those dice and they bounced, once, twice,
Earth Woman lost and was gone.
From the darkness, came a small child.
Daughter to Red Clay,
Child of Earth Woman.
She had followed her parents
Through all their trials.
She had seen their deaths
And the fire within her had dimmed,
Her skin so pale,
You could see the blood beneath it.
But her gaze was fierce
And her will was strong,
And with proper words
Taught to her by her parents and her people
She challenged those Old Gods
A third time.
And they accepted her wish
And she held those dice to her heart
Praying to her mother and father
Praying to those who were in front
And behind her.
Praying to Creation itself
To smile on a young girl’s foolishness,
She threw the dice down.
Those old gods looked at what she had done
And they saw that she had won.
Still they rolled their dice
Bouncing it against the jeweled stones
Once, twice, three times.
Shaking their ancient heads,
They released her to the world above.
And the glaciers began to pull back
And the sun began to feel warmer
And the Mother came back to life.
But her skin remained like a ghost
As did that of her children and her children’s children.
And that is why our skin looks this way
To this very day.
5.
Our culture, though – the way things have been done -
That came from Greensinger’s people.
“Greensinger” is not a name but a Title
They talk to the Green Nation
They know the language of plants
And have a deep understanding of the world.
The people of Greensinger’s tribe
Lived North of the womb of the world.
They were a happy prosperous people.
They knew how to work with the Mother
To build great crops of food, intertwined
With each other and the land around it.
They traded with their neighbors
Sometimes they were raided
But at all times, they were happy.
But the world changed, as it always changes
They began to lose their food
They began to starve.
Perhaps alone, they would have survived.
Perhaps if others had helped,
The story would have changed.
But their hungry neighbors remembered
That Greensinger’s people had food
And they swarmed down on them
Like hungry insects
They drove the People from their home.
Weeping, Greensinger’s people fled
Until they came to a swamp between two rivers
Furious at the others, they vowed return
And they prayed to their gods for succor.
They turned to Greensinger
And asked him for help.
They needed food and shelter
Clothing and tools
Even in this dismal place
They wanted to live.
The Greensinger of that time
He was a powerful one but young.
His training was not complete.
His Elder had died during that time
Of Fleeing. And this young one,
So powerful, was also filled with pride.
He went out into the world
And he found what the people needed
He found things for clothing and food
Shelter and medicine.
He brought many wonderful things.
Then one day, he heard a voice
And hearing it, he followed it
Until he came to a field of Grass.
And that grass spoke to him.
It said:
“Greensinger, greensinger
Listen to me.
Take me to your people.
Take me inside you.
And in turn I will make them
As many as the stars in the sky
They will sweep across the world
And devour all that crosses them.”
Greensinger was appalled.
What kind of spirit would ask such a thing?
Were his people not content with
Having what had been provided?
Who would want the entire world?
And with that, he recognized the creature
The thing that hid in the grass
And he named it monster.
He named it An-as – Lonely Wheat.
He said he would never take this thing
To the people. Instead he would destroy it.
Greensinger was a man,
Only a man,
Filled with pride.
Powerful as he was
He could not turn the tide of grass
Nor could he find it in his spirit
To ask for help.
The battle was great
And he gave a good accounting
But Greensinger died that day.
The An-as bit off his head
And moved inside him
Forming a false face to
Replace the old.
It gathered up itself,
Armfuls of its seeds
And returned to Greensinger’s people.
And it said to them:
“My people, my people,
Listen to me
Take this inside you.
And in turn it will make you
As many as the stars in the sky
You will sweep across the world
And devour all that crosses you.”
The people were confused.
Why would they need such power?
Were they not content with what
They had been given?
But Greensinger had always been good to them.
And some said, there may be old wrongs
Made right with such power.
They took the An-as inside them.
Sick at its foul medicine,
They began growing beyond reason.
They swept across the land
Like a virulent plague.
They built the first cities
Moved out from the swamps,
Destroyed their enemies
And took back the fertile lands.
Like the grass, they raced across
The world, always moving, always eating.
They were the Children of An-as
The Children of the One God,
Which also means Lonely Wheat.
They built cities, yes
But they left behind deserts.
Lifeless wastes.
They could see
What they were doing was wrong.
But they could not stop it.
The medicine was inside them.
They had become devourers
That would sweep the world.
They had little choice.
But the story doesn’t end there.
6.
The power of the An-as grew.
It reached out northward and
Met the ghost-skins.
It granted them this choice
Become one with the Devourers
Or die.
The ghost-skins laughed
They had faced death before
And they had won.
But some thought,
As Greensinger’s people had
In the beginning of this world,
Perhaps there is a way to use this.
Perhaps there were things that
Could be set right
With such power.
And so they took the medicine inside them.
Those who walked the White Road
Brought the knowledge of death
To the ways of the An-as
Taking up its path
With such fierceness
That some thought
Their skin was the source of
That devouring.
They brought death into the living world.
They tore into the ground
And spit fire into the sky.
They found the smallest and the largest
And took death’s black essence
To make wonders
And terrors
Too great to behold.
But the story doesn’t end there.
7.
The An-as and its children
Spread across the world
Some few saw it as a serpent
But it was no living thing.
It was a consuming force
Driven by a need to reach
The ends of the Earth.
It swept across the World Ocean
To the place some call Turtle Island
Some people held their own
Against its storm.
Others perished and were forgotten.
But then, something happened.
It reached the Western edge of the world
and its momentum broke.
There was nowhere else for it to go.
Nothing else to consume
Save itself.
Here, in this place,
In the land of Tukupar Itar, Sky Coyote
In the land of the Dolphin People
The one who watches over his creation,
The outsider, Coyote, guardian and protector
He saw this thing coming and he thought to himself
What a strange thing this is.
He had seen Two-leggeds perform
Stupid tricks before.
They had hurt themselves
And even the world
For a short time.
But these newcomers,
These ghost-skins and
Their ghost weapons.
They were a new thing.
So, he went to talk to them, in a new way
From an unexpected angle.
And as he walked towards them, he found
Himself in a new place.
But perhaps not so new.
He had been here before.
He knew this place.
He spotted a small child, weeping
And came to comfort her.
“Little one, ” he said. “Why are you here?
You are in the land of the dead.
It will hurt a living spirit.”
“I am lost” the child replied.
“We have been here for so long.
Since the time of my grandfather
And my grandfather’s grandfather.
We can no longer find the way home.”
Coyote felt a great sadness,
For no living spirit
Should be trapped in such a place
And he made this promise.
“Little one, ” he said “Much harm has been done.
But some things can be undone.
I’m going to kill the thing
That has led you here
As I promised the Creator
Since the beginning
To finish the world.
That’s what I do
I kill the monsters
That threaten the world and man.
But before I go,
I will teach you a song
To lead you back.
But you have to know
You will be changed.
Nothing comes back
From the land of the dead
Unchanged.”
Grandfather reached deep into himself
And plucked out a part of himself
To give to the child.
“Take this. It will become
A part of you. And should others,
Lost to this darkness,
Wish to return,
They need only ask their family
In the Red and Green and Gray Nations
And they too will give up this small part
So that your family and friends may return.”
As the little child took up that piece
Of Grandfather,
He started to sing.
“Little one, little one
Listen to me.
For I have a song to give you.
It is an old story.
And some may tell it differently,
But it is just as sweet – ”
0.
“In the beginning was the Void,
And all was darkness.
And from that dark ocean came the Voice,
And from that Voice came the Chorus.
And from their Song unfolded all things...
Author's Notes: It's funny because it's called an 'original composition' but it's not -- instead, it's woven together from the narratives of this culture, whether it's sociology or String Theory, Paleolithic choke points or gambling your lives giving you pale skin.
If you need to know why it was written or why it's relevant, you're welcome to contact me. Or check out the listed website. It's not mine but it is an interesting and informative one.
Best
Bill Maxwell
Author's Location: North Hills, California
Contact Me Via Email...
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