Part XIII - Cedars of Sorrow



There was little time remaining
as the sun began its spill
from the far southwestern podium
beyond dark Barrow Hill.

We made our way with cautious step
among the saprophytic blooms;
what was constrained, no longer kept
within the confines of its tombs.

They seemed but fingers, wisp and gray,
that weave of graver's strand,
to sketch upon a dele loom
the works of craven hand.

We sat close by Emma's marker,
Crazy Bill began to chant
as I watched the sky grow darker
and wondered what it meant.

"We had heard it on the mesa
just a month before,
but our visions couldn't face it,
it was such a horrible roar."

"We knew it came from Emma's place,
and some went by to see,
but Emma showed no sign nor face,
things went on normally."

"We knew something lay hidden there,
we felt its ancient breath;
a vision from a secret lair
that always ends with death."

"There's something else you need to see,
our seers cannot fathom;
what brought her tragic history
to the brink of life's chiasm."

It was plain, of cedar made,
this small box of Emma Good,
still it was carefully persuaded
from a single block of wood.

I pried the top with cautious care
'till finally it released,
a single strand of jet-black hair,
that kept its secrets safe.

"I taught her that so long ago,
I hardly can remember,
for things she didn't want to show
to any other member."

On top, a tiny bracelet,
a turquoise rosary;
twelve brilliant little stones were set
with fire-opals, three.

"Each turquoise stone, a moment
of protection after birth
that would presage good omen
for her moments on the earth.

"The opals are a shaman's tool,
that mark great visions' gift,
rare the child with one jewel,
Jenny's three denote some shift."

Beneath, were folded papers
with marks of fingered wear
which I carefully unfolded
to lay the contents bare.

"Jenet Elizabeth Good" it said,
next to that a date
then, "BAPTISMO IN ABSCENCIA"
many, many years too late...

and a thirty-year old picture
of a mother with her newborn,
and a sadness in the mixture
of turquoise bracelets worn.

Beneath that, a faded photograph,
a raven-haired young gypsy,
sitting in a shaman's lap,
"They were both a little tipsy."

"It was the night she showed herself,
and saw her hopes take wing,
she offered to our tribal wealth
the beauty of her dream."

"It went on throughout the night,
(its fruit was ripe by spring)
She entered purified and light,
and left as Emma Morning."

"It was a full initiation
which we all celebrated;
left the tribal celebration
a bit inebriated."

"Emma and I just rode around
then came up Barrow Hill,
to lie upon this hallowed ground
till the star-drenched night stood still."

"It can have a sacred feeling,
once or twice, that drops around.
I can say it left us reeling,
and it had a sacred sound."

"As I looked upon Em's shinning face
with mix of joy and wonder,
some terror reached up through this place
and pulled us both down under."

"Then was the moment fated,
though I hardly could believe,
in a small gray room I waited
after Jenny was conceived."

"When I heard that terrible screaming,
though I struggled as I could,
I was held down in my dreaming
by no force I understood."

"The stars hid beneath a pale blood
that oozed from dawn's new day,
when I looked at Emma Morning,
Emma turned and looked away."

"Though surrounded by a growing fear,
and clouds of coming storm
the first strange radiance appeared
and hid in Emma's form."

"The changes happened pretty fast
and came with little warning,
by spring, 'twas Emma Good held fast,
no more was Emma Morning."

Then Bill reached in the cedar box
and took the final token,
A tiny pair of moccasins,
of which he hadn't spoken.

"This initiation gift was made
for generations' span,
that each new step be unafraid,
from hand to hand to hand."

Bill took the photo witnessing
the mother and her newborn,
"The other bracelet's missing,
the one that Em had worn."

"The smaller went with Jenny
and ought not to be here.
The larger bound their destiny,
but now does not appear."

"We are missing some solutions,
things that need be learned.
On such puzzling substitutions
important matters turn."

Bill put the moccasins back in place,
and I, the other items,
a few tears stained his weathered face
as though he couldn't fight 'em.

"Like spring wine poured in winter's cup
Jenny came onto the earth,
as quickly, Emma gave her up
and into tribal birth."

"That radiance would happen twice,
the second was now here
as she rose through tar to sacrifice,
it shone in Emma's tears."

"That was the last I spoke to Emma,
though watching from afar,
in her pain of past dilemma
I could only add more tar."

"I watched the infant lifted
from Emma's arms to tribal breast,
as the years, through ashes sifted,
'til Em was put to rest."

"On the day her destiny was met
the center did not hold,
now something has escaped the net
of stories yet untold."

As he spoke I stirred the embers
and stared into the past
of what the earth remembers,
celestial lore is cast.

East, the old gray horns still hide,
West, the steed descends;
what will come of year's long ride
when horns reverse at year's long end?




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The Ballad of Emma Good ©1999 Red Slider, all rights reserved.