In this green wild forest,
is an unheard mystery.
As a hunter,
my ancestors spirits lead.
In the eastern forest path are crossroads,
where an antelope stands looking.
Ears are erected,
with tail highly waging.
I smell her virginity on the path created,
with nostrils so nesh to heal.
I see in her soul un-felt desires,
and in her blood the spell of the gods.
Melting the shod of my arrow,
is the passion to stimulate her soul.
Eyes dimmed to her skin,
and straight it pierced her heart.
Inside the sweat on my feet,
is the dream of hurry.
She lied down calmly,
eyes glistening to mine.
As if she knew the thoughts,
conceived at the oasis of my soul.
Her blood so pure on the shrine’s altar,
“she has duly paid her dues to the spirits”,
thus said the words of incantation.
Her soul flies with pride—
a quell for the spirits,
an appease to the gods.
let mothers not be barren in womb,
and the land not baked in infertility.
Children be filled to the full of the soil,
and the moon pour down her everlasting joy on you.
These were the words unlocked,
from the peaceful antelope appease.
The Village Thinker © 2014