The Flute Maker

The Flute Maker
(or how I learned to re member)

Photo Credit: Anton Croos (WikiCommons)

I watched him
bend
break
burn
women
to his liking.
Cutting them
down.
Digging them
up.
Ancient tree
burned-
cut into drum.
Precious metal
boiled-
bent into flute.

So sweetly he would say...
Mark time for me.
Keep my harmony.

So sweetly he would say...
Look what I did for you.
How beautiful you sound!

So sweetly he would say...
Kiss these hands
that have cut you.
Love this fire
that has burned you.
I have made you
an instrument.
Sing!
Hold time for me.

And the women would dance
And beat themselves
Hands hitting rings
that once told time
Rings now shined
into decorative marks
with his spit.

One keeps dancing
holding time
And beating herself.
Metal
that harnessed the energy
of the earth's poles
Now, waiting for his breathe
so she can
Sing...

Another would dance
Her feet keeping time
Forgetting that
She was a tree.
Ancient and older than he.

Another would sing
When his breathe came
like the wind
Forgetting that
She was metal.
The core of earth and eternity.

Forgetting.
I saw them forget.

I watched him
bend,
break
burn women
to his liking.
Cutting them down...
Digging them up...
Ancient tree
burned
cut into drum.
Precious metal
boiled
bent into flute.

I watched them
And this
Is how I learned
to
re
member.

-MelaniN
150915