u/kabemccallister6859

Twisted, tan, manila strands
Tie together men and lands.
Fastened sails bring ship to shore.
Anchor drops and sets secure.
Sailors find a place to moor
And pull with calloused hands.
-
Twisted strands unite and strain
In the fertile, grassy plain.
Ox and yoke to plow they bind.
Guiding farmer walks behind.
Battered blades through topsoil grind
To render earthy grain.
-
Twisted, rough, unyielding cords
Have been doom to serfs and lords.
Gleaming blade looms in the air.
Dreaded noose evokes despair.
Men condemned, with vacant stare,
Recite their final words.

Counting the eggs in the last submitted basket of the contest, the officiator gave the boy an acknowledging nod as the score exceeded the former potential winner's. The boy leaned on his spear and continued to slow his breathing. His visible ribs were covered in mud and in blood from his injuries and from those of his competitors. Sweat and a single tear rolled down his hollow cheek and betrayed his stoic upbringing.

The officiator's forearms rattled in his gauntlets as he searched the cloak that swallowed his once-brawny body. He produced from a hidden pocket a strip of fabric which he then tied around the boy's eyes. With a glance to the guards to his right and left, the three of them marched the boy up the path.

The journey to the cliff, which the boy had made many times before, seemed much longer without the aid of sight. He counted his steps and guessed when they were passing the barren fields, the quiet village, and finally the dry well. The boy knew when they had reached the statuary when his feet stepped from the soft grass of April onto warm hewn limestone.

Dozens of statues cast shadows toward the village as the sun bled into the sea. The party had not come to pay tribute to the goddess of love or the god of war.
They approached a statue at the cliff's edge. It was less detailed and more mysterious than any of the others. Ancient carvings in the marble base read, "The Unknown God."

The four stopped for a moment in front of it. Though they had been wordless for the entire trip, they all knew the others were remembering the same event. A former Pharisee had stood in that spot many weeks prior and shared a story of sacrifice and reconciliation.
This day was the anniversary of the events of which he had spoken. With another glance from the officiator, the guards guided the boy to the edge of the cliff.

The waters below had received many boys far less capable and promising than he. The boy's heart pounded and his ears rang as he awaited a kick to the back. If the sacrifice of a firstborn could appease the God of the Hebrews, perhaps the sacrifice of a firstborn might satisfy an unknown god.

In panic born of brother’s shrieks,
While with his flesh she stuffs her cheeks,
I hide in paper bedding sour.
A mother’s instinct to devour.

In panic born of brother’s shrieks,
While with his flesh she stuffs her cheeks,
I hide in paper bedding sour.
A mother’s instinct to devour.

His accolades and talents were renowned
His skills in song and dance were without peer
The Highest Heaven reveled in the sound
A harp of gold caressing Triune Ear
Until the day he listened to conceit
And led astray the first created son
Was ousted serpentine in his deceit
And trampled by the true Begotten One
His limbless, voiceless form no music brings
His gilded lyre sits centuries unplayed
But compositions cursed do some still sing
Through human hands his artistry conveyed
In whispered hiss with tail tip for a hand
The snake directs an unrepentant band

His accolades and talents were renowned
His skills in song and dance were without peer
The Highest Heaven reveled in the sound
A harp of gold caressing Triune Ear
Until the day he listened to conceit
And led astray the first created son
Was ousted serpentine in his deceit
And trampled by the true Begotten One
His limbless, voiceless form no music brings
His gilded lyre sits centuries unplayed
But compositions cursed do some still sing
Through human hands his artistry conveyed
In whispered hiss with tail tip for a hand
The snake directs an unrepentant band

His homeless, cold, and roaming soul,
Evicted by a power pole,
Surveys his body, red and torn.
His broken rib cage plays the horn.

His homeless, cold, and roaming soul,

Evicted by a power pole,

Surveys his body, red and torn.

His broken rib cage plays the horn.

An old man wearing an instant-print camera on a laniard slowly walked up to me and asked, “May I put your picture in the book I look at when I get lonely?”

After slowly taking a seat on his foreign bed, he was reminded of his own name when his trembling fingers flipped through a binder full of pictures of related strangers.

I cast my line

And sat on the quiet bank of my mind.

I caught

A few thoughts,

But I threw most of them back.