Hole in the groundpassage to another world. Elders speak the laws cut our cheeks, send us into darkness. How long must we crawl on our bellies like worms? This is no dark that we understand; this blackness authors the night. Bodies barely fit these passages as we inch forward. Rock wet with blood, we gasp for air down, down we crawl into the heat of the Mother. Flash of light, flash again drumming bends the air. Our tongues crave the salt of the rock walls that rub against our wounds. Dark hands of the reindeer men pull us to freedom. Strong fingers peel away the crust of old skin to reveal our velvet antlers.
© Patrick O’Neill 2010. All rights reserved