lvii. Braided Hmmm, Part 3

I hear voices, not Odom’s, not Iris’s,
 hmmming, but a strange new way,
not summing to just one, but none & many
 too, they dim when I try to peek,
stronger when my eyes close again, stronger
 still when I calm my breath & relax.

Now one voice, tastes like dirt in my mind,
 like leaves & berries, soft like the fur
of every stray cat I’ve tried to keep, slippery
 like the fish shiny & flopping in the big
nets. A voice I’ve known in dreams,
 like I was expecting. He begins.

“How do you steer a boat on God’s own sea?”
“You take the oar & you beat at the boards
 below your feet—”
“Beat at them & scream & beat at them
 some more until you sink—”
“And you drown—”
“And so you give your reply—”
“Your sea, your boat—”
“My will, my death.”

We speak these words back & forth like
 we so often have, they are our
signal, how we grab & keep hold in dreams.

I open my eyes now. He smiles. He isn’t simply
 a man & so his smile is always off.
I’ve tried to teach him. He fails.

“Are we still in the room with Iris & Odom?”
“Yes, & no.”
“This isn’t one of our usual dreams?”
“No, Cordel’a.”
“No strange books for us to read together?
 No trees we talk to? No ghosts?”
“No, Cordel’a.”

He stands, & motions me to sit in his chair.
Manners he does well. I wish I could see
 the others too right now.

He is tall, his face more shadows than
 flesh & bones. Taller than Odom, or my
own tall father. Dressed in skins, rags,
 more shadows? Walks bent, like in pain,
or old, but is neither. Ancient but not
 merely old like a man.

I close my eyes in this already dream,
 to pause it, to remember. He came
to me in my dreams from very young,
 it was why Odom thinks me a
light sleeper. I was scared. Scared of
 the strange music of my dreams,
the music of the hearts of all those
 I knew, of the world, of many worlds.

But I saw how brave were those around me,
 defending us in the tribal wars, risking
every day going out in the long boats
 fishing, risking their safety for
those they loved. This courage
 changed my dreams, I dared to know
better this music, dared what resided
 in my dreams to appear plainly.

And he did. Never a fully fleshed man,
 but this form showed me he
acknowledged what I was, cared somehow.

But he hadn’t come for me, because
 of me. It was Odom. I learned this
very slowly, as I learned to know
 his mind, as he had learned mine.

Why? For what? We would sit together
 deep in the One Woods, quietly
listening, & I would try to understand.

The air cool, a little damp, little stirring,
 sometimes I felt like I was half buried
in autumn leaves, covered in fur, & again
 my question. Trees about us listening,
almost willing to help, especially the young ones.

“Will you take him from me?”
“Take?”
“Odom? Tell me.”
“How would anything in the world do that?”

When Iris came to our tribe, he was
 as curious, as restless of her. He took me
to a place deep in the One Woods, an old house,
 abandoned of its inhabitants, took me
there to show me an old old book,
 & the pictures in it of a girl, a princess
beautiful & powerful. She was Iris.

I open my eyes to now. He is before me,
 as fully as ever, more so. Asking him
is hopeless, yet I do again.

“Will you take him from me?”
“He must choose.”
“Choose what?”
“Choose his life among his loved ones, or
 to save this world.”
“Why? Why him?”
“Him & others.”
“Why? What’s wrong with this world that
 he must leave us & save it?”

Silence.
“Tell me. Do you love me?”
Silence.
“Tell me.”
“It’s not enough.”

I want to say to him, & then I want to go.
I think of how much I love Odom & Iris,
 & the way we live, my father, the fishers,
these magickal Woods by daylight hours
 & by dreams. I try to say it in words
this not-just-human Beast will hear fully,
 will feel like my heart’s claws in
whatever flesh he has.

“I have to believe the world is good.
 I have to.”

He briefly shows me something like days
 to come. Violence, abstract, absurd,
& few of us escaping, with nothing in
 our hands, just deep into these Woods
in a wild night of fire.

And Odom isn’t with us. He has gone far,
 he is traveling, heart rent, with others,
a group of men. They grow to love him,
 as I do. They have to save the world.

Than it’s gone, & he’s gone, but he leaves
 me a smile, sad but true. I am back
with Iris & Odom, feeling like I haven’t
 breathed in minutes. Looking at Iris.
Go now, Iris, go now.

I feel him parting me already, even
 before Iris takes him away from the
encampment into the night. I know
 better than Odom her intent. She knows
he’s going too. She wants to hold him
 so he won’t forget her when the world
takes him from her, & me.

Take? How would anything in the world
 do that?

******

lviii. Stone Tower

More rain. Thunder & lightning. I lay
 low under my brown blanket, on my matt,
holding my blue-green coin purse close.
 Try to sort feelings even as they
tangle too badly to know.

How can I sacrifice all I know & love now?
How can I leave Iris? Or Cordel’a? Or my father?
Why do I feel helpless when good as well as
 bad powers range near me?

A noise at the entrance to our tent &
 our father comes in. Wet, but smiles
at me loving. I expect he’s forgotten
 a tool or his rain hat or such, but
he sits down on the edge of my matt.

“How are you, Odom?”
“I’m good, Father. And you?”
He smiles deeper, shakes his head.
“How are you? Tell me true, son.”

Does he know about Iris? He doesn’t
 seem angry. I decide to deflect, but
honestly.

“I’ve heard the new King dislikes our
 Woods.”
“Dislikes how?”
“He studies to destroy the magic within.”
His face reveals nothing.
I try again.
“Those Woods are very important to us.”
He nods.

I look at him plainly, learn forward to
 hold one of his large sea-worn hands.
“Tell me.”
“May I show you?”
We cloak & venture into the pour, less
 now then before. Climb the wet,
somewhat muddy hills to the White Woods.

More protected from rain once we enter.
He leads me longer, & I can hear
 the low hmmm he sings.

Deep deep into the White Woods we go,
 till it feels like this has ever been
our travel & ever on. I don’t tire but
 I do wonder. He says nothing as we go.

We arrive suddenly. A clearing, with a
 massive tower in its center. Made of
ridged granite, many small pieces fitted
 together. Tall as perhaps 20 men,
four-sided, with a kind of round face near top
 on each side. He counts 12 glowing dots
in each circle & two long curved pieces
 nailed loosely to its center, seeming
  to point at the dots & farther.

I step forward & touch the tower, cold,
 round, like real enough rock.
A glowing up on the tower from unseen source.

“What is this?”
“It’s a promise to us that men are no formidable
 enemy to these Woods.”
“I don’t understand.”
He comes close to me, looks down to my face,
 hands on my shoulders.
“Tell me,” I say.

He smiles. “This Tower is our promise.”
“How? I don’t understand.”
“As is the girl Iris.”
Inwardly I flinch but otherwise hold
 my own.

“But you know all this.”
“I didn’t know about this tower.”

He suddenly lowers his tall muscular self
 to the grass next to the Tower. Motions
me to set next to him.

“Do you know why we are fishers, Odom?”
I shake my head.
“Or why we have not ourselves built more
 permanent homes?”
Shake again.

“We are Travelers. Even now, we could
 leave where we are in a night or less.”
“Why don’t we? Better than calling another
 tribe’s King our own!” I suddenly shout,
surprising both of us.

He nods. “We’ve settled where we did to be
 near these White Woods. Long ago, your
father the King & I strayed into them
 by accident, & might have perished
before finding our way back.”

“What happened?”
“The Creatures found us, & led us to
 the cave of a powerful being.”
“A Beast?”
He nods.
“He doesn’t like men.”
“No. And he might have driven us out or
 worse but the Creatures stood by us.
A White Bunny. A little gnattering thing.
 Some bears, giraffes, others.”
“Why?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. But
 that was how we came to live near here,
to settle as much as we have.”

“Do they know the dangers? Do they
 understand what some men will do?”
I don’t feel reassured. Trying not to just
 panic. I don’t want to leave him,
or Iris, or Cordelia.

He stands, & pulls me up too. He makes
 us lean close to the stone tower,
feel it, listen. I close my eyes, & feel
 how strong is the vibration now, the Hmmm.
Open my eyes & see his are still closed,
 but his smile is beautiful. He believes
as I did.

He speaks softly again. “Take care of Iris,
 son. We found her in these Woods some
years ago. She was wandering barefoot,
 singing to herself & all those around.
Another gift of these Woods, & promise.”

I nod mutely & he seems satisfied. He leads
 us back as we came, his Hmmm one
of joy. He had told me all & we now share
 these secrets.

I wonder if I should leave soon. Do what
 I must with whoever else. I am here
& gone both, unable to say this, knowing
 that all I love is not safe & the danger
is nearer all the time. I think of Iris’s
 sweet deep kiss, & paralyze.

“Come on, Odom!” my father calls, & I hurry.

******

lix. Odom & Roddy

“Have you come to kill me too then?”
 “I’m too weak & despairing to hide anymore.
Better quick & done.

He nods to me come out. Older than me,
 doesn’t look like a murderer. Speaks:
“Put down your hands, son. Tell me who
 you are.”

I’d been crouched hiding under the
 half-built stairs of the church.
He sits down on them & motions me too.

“My name is Odom.”
“I’m Roddy. Is this your village?”
“No!” I say fiercely. “I lived beyond
 those brown hills, an encampment
near the water. When our tribe was
 taken over by another one, they intended
us to live here.”

Roddy looks around. “How are you
 the only one left here?”

Odom’s face shivers near tears. “I was
 in the Woods, preparing to leave.”
“Leave? Why?”
“I was told I have to find others to help
 save the world.” Odom expects Roddy
will laugh or mock. Roddy doesn’t.

“We share much in common. I’ve been
 living in another part of these same Woods
for a long time. And I share your mission.”

“How?”
“What happened to everyone?” Roddy asks
 instead.
“I don’t know.”
Roddy nods & stands. Offers his hand.
Odom doesn’t move yet. “Will you help
 me find them?”
Roddy nods. “If we can. But they may
 not be findable.”
“Why?”

Roddy sits back down. “Were you really
 preparing to leave?”
Odom shivers again. “No,” he whispers.
“Why?”
“Iris,” he whispers.
Roddy flinches. “She is yours?”
Odom nods.
Roddy offers his hand again. Odom takes it.

They search the village meticulously.
As empty of people as a half-built stage
 set would be.

Then Odom leads Roddy to his tribe’s encampment,
 & again no people, no bloodshed, nothing
taken. Odom likes this strange & tries to be
 strong as they hunt fruitlessly. But his panic
undoes him as he sits down on the matt
 in his family’s tent.

“Odom, I think they are safe.”
“How? Where?”
“I don’t know either. Just that I too had to
 give up everything & leave.”
“Why us?”

Roddy sits on Odom’s matt with him.
“I think it’s because we have to save
 the whole world, not just the part
we each love.”
Odom nods because nothing else
 makes sense.

They stay a couple of days more,
 just to be sure nothing happens,
nobody returns. They don’t Roddy is patient.
 He likes the young man. Odom wants
to go back into the White Woods
 to find out more. Roddy desists, says
he will pack them each a long distance
 set of gear.

Odom climbs up the brown hills to the
 White Woods, & takes out his blue-green
coin purse. Herself walks onto his palm,
 a friendly gnaw or two.

“Bring me to him.”
“Eh?”
Odom stares her down unsmiling. “I need
 to know they are safe.”

Suddenly she cackles & races off
 among the trees, tugging at his
mind to follow, follow! He runs
 as fast as he can, holding close to
her cacklings & hmmmings.

They arrive in seeming minutes,
 her already inside. It takes more
than all his courage to enter the
 dark, dark cafe.

“I’m here again.”
“Why?”
“You took everyone! Why?”
“There was no choice.”
“What did you do with them?”
“They’re safe. You knew that.”

“What is wrong with the world? Explain
 it to me.”
“Men.”
“I am a man! Roddy is a man! How
 can we do this then? Save the world
from ourselves?”
“There will be others.”
“More men?”
“Yes. But not just.”

“My father believed we were all
 safe.”
“They are. For now.”

Silence.

“Is this your choice? Did you do
 this?”
“Not as you think.”

“What are we supposed to do? How
 do we save the world? Where do
  we go?”

He wants to say something, to express
 his fear, anger, terror, sadness.

“She will find you again.”
“Who?”
“All of them.”
Finally he says: “I just wish I understood.”

“Nobody understands, Odom. The world
 is not fully knowable. Now go back to Roddy.
It’s time you started.”

Odom leaves the cave, sad, but no longer
 afraid. He finds Roddy ready to leave.
They walk, wordless, side by side,
 away from the encampment.

******

lx. The Bridge [for R. Carson]

“What we feel is what we do;
What we feel is, nearly, what we are”

My back began to ache one morning, not long
 after we returned from the cave of the Beast.
A low ache, wrenching, seeming near malevolent.
 Came & went as I sat, stood, walked.
Caused my dreams dash together & crumple,
 drag me awake to whimper in the tent’s
darkness. I was delaying.

More of us were pulled from our boats
 to work on our new home. Our fishing
lives somehow treated like past tense.
 How else were we to make our living,
provide our meals?

It was more. These conquerors, as I’d begun
 to call them in my mind, did not
cherish the natural world, as the King
 had warned me. All over the half-built
town were wasted materials, piles of wood
 let to molder & rot. I was delaying.

Others thought as I did. Though still a boy
 in years, & despite my cruel back, I worked
as hard as any of the men, in the boats
 & in the town. Worked hard, & listened.
They were discontent yet, not organized,
 ’twas no more.

My father & our King worked among them,
 with cheer, no complaints.

“Can you talk to them? Tell them we’re fishers,
 our lives to the sea?”
“They know.”
“Then what about this town we waste weeks
 to build, my King?”
“I’m not your King. You know that. To them,
 I am another man. Not the strongest among
  us anymore, either.”

I was delaying. My back grew worse.
 My father made me rest much of the days,
& Cordel’a would tend me.

“Where is Iris?”
“Odom, you’re too feeble for her kisses,”
 sea-green eyes mocking me, trying to rouse
  up our old rows.

“She’s in the White Woods.”
I sit up, screeching my back.
“Where?”
She pushes me firmly back on my matt.
With a sudden smirk, she reaches under
 my matt & pulls out my blue-green coin purse.

Gestures me open my hand. Pours her little self
 onto my palm. Big eyes, pleased as ever just to be.
“Ask her, Odom.”
I say nothing, just stare.
“Go on.”

I look at the tiny Creature & say, “Where
 is Iris?”
“Eh?” she caws, lazily.
I hold her up closer to me. “Where is she?”
She cackles softly, no more.
Frustrated, I pick her up & place her back
 in the purse. She gnatters agreeably.

Roddy pokes the fire between us a little
 higher. “You were delaying.”
I nod.
“So why did you go to the Beast to say
 you weren’t going?”

“I heard talk that the new King was
 planning to assault the White Woods.
Burn it to the ground. And our encampment
 too. Move us forcibly into the tow.”
“But why?”
“It’s simple. He would extract from the
 White Woods its strange magicks & then
use them & our tribe’s men as part of
 an army. The Peace-Keeper’s treaty
had united a great population under one
 king. But he wanted more.”

“So you went to the Beast & told him
 you couldn’t leave?”
Our King & my father had finally had
 enough. We would simply leave. Bring little,
pack our boats, go.”
“What of the White Woods?”

I laugh. “I asked him. My King smiled
 at me like I had never seen, a sort of
sweet wonder in his eyes. ‘Odom,
 the White Woods don’t burn.”

“So you were leaving with them?”
“Yes.”
“And you went to see the Beast?”
“I pulled her out of my coin-purse & begged
 her to bring me. She would cackle & gnatter
& gnaw my palm, but nothing.”
Roddy nods.
“Finally, she did lead me into the
 White Woods. To the Tower my father
had shown me.”
“The Woods’ promise of your tribe’s safety.”
“Yes.”
“And his message to you to do as
 you’d agreed.”
“Save the world, not just who
 I love.”
Nod.
“And Iris?”
I shake my head.
Roddy stares at the fire a long time.
I wonder his story even as he stands
 to put out the fire, to sleep.

We travel open roads for a long time,
 to no apparent end. Villages where life
is stable, dull, safe. We sometimes hear talk of
 a distant war, wonder if the Peace-Keeper’s
King had gone forth without White Woods
 magicks, or my own tribe’s men.

At night I often hold my blue-green coin purse
 in my hand, not studying its designs,
nor inviting its contents, her, out.
 I feel far from the delights of Creatures,
the love of my kin. Iris’s turquoise eyes.

Roddy can tell my quiet despair as we
 trudge along, saving the world one reluctant
step after the next.

He stops us by a pretty grove of trees
 along yet another otherwise empty road.
Not yet night yet he halts us, & sets about
 gathering fire kindling. I sit, waiting,
willing to cook our stew as shared task.

But he pulls out a teapot, battered silver
 thing. Queer smile at me, fetches water
from a nearby stream. Sets it to boiling.

“Do you like tea, Odom?”
“Never drank it much.”
“Have you had mushroom tea before?”
I shake my head but, strangely, hear
 her cackle in my mind.

Bitter, bitter taste. But Roddy nods me on,
 strange smile, & I drink again.
Nothing to it special, but I keep sipping as the
 sun’s burnt orange light rims the distant
trees I’d not noticed.

I begin to smile, not knowing why. My near-
 constant backache feels gone, quite gone.

“Show me your coin purse, Odom?
This seems like a good idea, a really good
 one, so I pull it out from my traveling sack.
I sit next to Roddy, as I hadn’t previously,
 & show him up close. The Island,
the Castle. The Tangled Gate. He nods,
 not unknowing these, though I don’t ask how.

“Would you like to see the contents?”
He nods. His smile glowing as mine.
One by one, I take out the coins, the dice,
 the connecting tool. All seem more kinetic
  to mine eye than usual.

I place the coin purse in my hand for
 her to come out. After a time, she does,
  ambling, curious to see whre in this
   delightful world she is.

Roddy & she stare at each other with
 equal delight.
“You know about her . . . about Creatures?”
He nods, almost sadly.
“You knew them in the White Woods?”
Nods.
“And you had to leave them like I did?”
“And I had to leave my brothers before that,
 as you have left your kin.”

The fire is now our light but our faces
 are shining to each other.
“We can’t return to what we knew of
 them, but we have to return?”
“Yes, Odom.”
“And I think she will show us?”
“I think so too.”
“Tonight? Now?”
He laughs. We have our fired doused &
 packs ready in minutes. Herself
  waits agreeably, cackling softly.

A full moon has come up now &
 reveals that our little grove of trees
is indeed within distance of woods.

“White Woods?”
“Ask her.”
Roddy kneels his tall, muscular self
 down as low as he can to address
  my, our, friend.

“We’re ready to find our brothers.
Will you bring us?”

Cackling wild with delight, she speedsd
 away toward the White Woods.
Laughing, shouting, we follow, running
 flat out & only keeping up by
  the cackles she fills our minds with.

No paths. No signs of men. But we
 continue to run along, minutes or hours
pass, the moon seeming unmoved high
 above us.

Then, suddenly, a clearing, & oh my!
In its center, a White Birch, its three trunks
 twined close. Glowing in the moonlight,
glowing in our eyes. But nobody around.

To take a breath before the chase
 resumes, we sit beneath her
  branches. Looking up at the full moon.

Roddy begins to count. “Six,” he whispers.
“Six what?”
“Six leaves. Look!”

I look at the leaves, each shining distinctly
 on its branch. Look closer & closer to each.

One a tall, thin man, seated at a table in
 a courtyard, studying the carvings of
  his walking stick.
One a pretty girl, brushing her long hair,
 quietly singing, again & again, “all flesh
  is lorn, all flesh needs love.”
One a dark man, strange hat on his head,
 standing before a canvas, tis a painting
   of a White Birch, this White Birch.
One is Roddy, shows him wandering
 another part of these White Woods,
  living in various strange little houses.
One shows me, standing with Iris &
 Cordel’a, talking to the Beach, each
  making an arrangement.
The last is a man, crouching by a stream,
 above him a great bridge crossing
  the stream. He looks at me, at Roddy,
   kindly, but waiting. He’s waiting us.

My little friend bursts out with
 more wild cackles, leading us,
but also calling, calling, calling,
 to all the wondrous Creatures of
the Woods, Creatures of the Dream,
 & as we resume our run, we can
see flashing among the trees nearby
 the White Bunny, grey hedgehog,
many giraffes, many bears, bloo-eyed
 Kittees, purple furry Creature with
ribbons & bow, shiny-eyed Creatures, &
 many others, running, running,
running, & we somehow keeping up, &
 along the way one joins us, the tall
thin man, & then the running girl too,
 & the dark man, with canvases
strapped to his back, & we are running
 in a happy, shouting group, &
when the thorns & bushes get thick, thicker,
 we push through, laugh, shout, push through,
& tis of a wondrous sudden when we
 emerge from them along a stream,
& there the bridge, & there, crouching,
 waiting, smiling, at last, & at last,
the man we newly gathered brothers
 will alone now kneel to call our King.

******

Continue on to Many Musics, Eleventh Series

Back to Many Musics, Ninth Series

Back to Table of Contents