I wrote something (everyone’s asleep after lunch), and it’s not a poem. An Oracle story. Fiction blurring into fact.
The Oracle
She stands in the cave mouth, gazing down at the sea, blue, glittering. On the sea is a white-sailed boat. In the boat is a man, black-bearded, with a request. She is a mouth nothing more to the man, who is nothing more than a black beard to her. The cave yawns; the white sail approaches.
He ties up the boat, reaches inside for two white doves. Their wings beat feebly. She never asks for this, but they do it anyway. Nothing for nothing. She would have them let the birds fly, but they only understand death. What price would they have paid if there was no shedding of white-feathered blood?
She sings a wordless song to calm the frightened birds. She can do no more. Between hers, and the world of men is an ocean, a night sky, a towering wall.
The blood flows, and black-beard is satisfied. He asks his question and she replies. It is a riddle. She has a limitless store. He will work it out to his own satisfaction. Only she knows it means nothing.
He leaves, black-bearded, white-sailed, confident. But aren’t they all? She wonders at the lives they lead, black-beard’s mother, his wife, sisters, his daughters. She wonders if he ever dreams of the volcano simmering beneath his confident tread, how his mother, wife, sisters and daughters hold it on a leash. For now.
If he did, he would never ask her to explain the meaning of such a dream. He would have forgotten it before morning, a wisp of cloud mist, a foolish fancy, as irrelevant as the cry of a child in the night.
She smiles to herself, a wry smile. If only he understood that there is nothing more relevant than the cry of a child in the night, the beating wings of things that do not want to die, the strong hand of a loving woman, perhaps the volcano would not have to be unleashed.
An Oracle story about an Oracle! Definitely fiction blurring into fact. History and the present are full of such men.
Are your children visiting?
I used some of your words, but I’ll post it tomorrow as my musings.
I thought it would be a poem, but the Oracle thought otherwise.
Yes, we have the youngest in residence until she goes back to school and the next youngest came on a flying visit. How did you guess?
One can’t argue. 🙂
When you said everyone was napping, it sounded like more than your husband and animals. And also you mentioned with the words that you were busy.
I seem to be the only one who manages to stay awake between breakfast and bedtime 🙂
You’re the mom. 🙂
Always on duty 🙂
Yup. That’s how it goes. 🙂
Forever and ever…
🙂
Love it!
A lot of the words for the story were proposed by the word generator. The Oracle knows exactly what she’s doing 🙂
Excellent story telling.
Thank you xxx
He has forgotten it before he even thought of it. What a beautiful representation of the Oracle. (K)
I loved this story, even though it made me sad at the end…
or was it because of that?
I’m glad you reacted to it in an emotional way. I think it’s sad that women still get treated like congenital idiots by too many men, and that we’re still having to insist on equal rights. But maybe we’ll get there one day, even if it means an explosion of anger first.
I have always said that we don’t need equal rights, as we are much better than them…
But we still need equal rights or, better or not, we’ll still get trampled on.
A good place to start!I suppose, before we surpass the lot of them!
Women used to be in charge in many early societies, but as soon as brute force went to the top of the hit parade of qualities, we lost.
We are acquiring more muscle these days though, so that could change…
It often seems like one step forward two steps back. The religious mob won’t stand for it, and feminism seems to have difficulty sticking to its agenda.
Reblogged this on Anita Dawes and Jaye Marie.
Thank you 🙂