Friday, September 29, 2006

Student of the death of the Rooster 

She waited one hundred and thirty days, 

hoping for the dead.
She sat quietly, and moved nothing but her eyes.
And when they came collecting money from the dead,
She paid them with her own.
The energy of life is more powerful than greed, she said.
And when they came collecting the paintings of the dead,
She dispersed them among his loved and lovers.
Knowing that friendship is more powerful 
than "cultured" people led.
And when they came collecting the writings of the dead,
She burned them all, 
Protecting his insanities 
from the curious and the wicked.
Then they came collecting the belongings of the dead.
This is when she opened wide the door.
"The living will need the things that the dead do not," 
she said.

She buried, small, a box, hidden in the yard.

Rings and mummied kittens were the treasures that she hid.
And when her heart grew weary, 
too heavy to work, anymore,
She went inside her house, 
and then she shaved her head.
Silence was her companion, then, 
her servant, and her bed.
You say that she is a graceless warrior.
You say that you would learn her.
You always keep your promises...
This is what you said.
But the master doesn't always choose the student.
She has chosen you instead.
You dared her for birds on wings of bleu, 
and hearts afire, red.
She is learning, now, her master.
As she learns herself.
You step this way, she counters that.
She has begun to learn your blocks.
You are the book of mysteries 
that needs be learned and read.
You caught her by surprise, just once.
It will not happen again.
Why would she give up on the living?
She waited one hundred and thirty days, hoping for the dead.

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