The First Kingdom
I dream of
the first kingdom
empire of four
water wood earth and sky
when we knew
we did not rule,
when a hand outlined
in ocher
tried to make us real;
when water set to boil
in the round womb of the cauldron
gave magic,
when our skin was honeysuckle,
our tongues fluent in bird,
our hands for making not breaking,
each others' blood too precious to shed
except in the green sacrifice.
Now I watch
the black beyond night
billow out.
The poison steam of brittle brains
evaporating madness
cracks the cauldron.
Sacrifice is colorless.
The lie of ownership replaces
creation's light in our eye. This empire
of assassins, where love is only
an argument of muscle and bone,
where the last fires burn and
birds drop dead from the sky
must pass away, its darkness carried
from the earth, before
the first kingdom can become
the last.
September 2020
posted for Fireblossom at
Note: in Celtic mythology, cauldrons symbolized many things magical: birth, death, endless plenty and the strongest magic of resurrection. They've been found in many Iron Age burial sites, and later Christianized in the concept of the Holy Grail. The Cauldron in Celtic Life
Images: Hand Painting, Chauvet Cave,circa 32,000 BP
Title unknown, by Brooke Shaden Fair Use
Ah, you're here! Yay!
ReplyDeleteI adore "the lie of ownership replaces creation's light in our eye" though it's (highly accurate) meaning is the antithesis of anything admirable. You've caught the moment right down to the falling birds. You know I love birds, so that image--and the smoky reality of it--cuts deep. By bookending the present calamity with a different time and its different values, you drive home your point even more pointedly. The contrast is sharp and dreadful. Progress just may not be all it is cracked up to be. That seems abundantly clear right now. Marvelous work here, Joy.
Our red hand grasps too much. I too note the line Shay does, and the falling birds plucked by fires aftermath from the western skies.
ReplyDeleteWhen the first kingdom returns, will it be archaea, bacteria, or even fewer cells?
Oh for our tongues to still be fluent in bird. You have nailed truth to the tree here in a glorious way Joy, with every image and every line you have painted humanities ugliness brilliantly. One cannot read this and not be moved.
ReplyDeleteThis is bewitching, spellbinding — and I found in it deep sadness and condemnation for our current world, and the soulless bastards who are manipulating it. This was dark and delicious soul chocolate! Great write Hedgewitch! ...so many brilliant phrases... I want to learn to talk bird.
ReplyDeletechilling and a very effective poem!
ReplyDeleteMy new favourite of yours! The beautiful green growing time remembered - "when our skin was honeysuckle,/ our tongues fluent in bird" - contrasting with our present darkness, with birds falling dead out of the sky......sigh. This poem satisfies my heart with its sad truth so well-said.
ReplyDeleteAs others have said, this is an amazing poem. Mysterious, ageless, deep, relevant. I love these words ... 'sacrifice is colorless.'
ReplyDeleteits darkness carried
ReplyDeletefrom the earth, before
the first kingdom can become
the last
It is the way of nature that certain things ought to take place before change can be seen and felt. It'll fall into place easily barring unintended obstacles!. Rightly so Joy!
Hank
Pity indeed. Not much forgiveness here for this disastrous tribe, the one which once could only suppose its existence ochering a hand on a cave-wall. Those eyes could see the majesty of Nature; what happened in the millennia since? We drowned the caves in nature's blood, intoxicated with the "lie of ownership." Ah well. Earth's fatal mistake was allowing us any kingdom bigger than Chauvet's dream. Now we all burn.
ReplyDeleteoh, this wrecks havic with my soul. The world indeed has assassins killing under the disguise of leadership. We the stewards of the earth and in this time period have created a terrible injustices. When will this evil spell be broken and the true seers lead us out of the darkness? You have captured reality so well in this piece. It is well thought out and expresses so much that I feel and see. My mind is trying to see what the last kingdom might look like. sigh...it is my hope we can expel darkness and welcome an era of light. May it be so!
ReplyDelete"when our skin was honeysuckle, our tongues fluent in bird" - oh wow, that is so great. And "where love is only an argument of muscle and bone" - fantastic. And our need to purge so much darkness before we can regain the light. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteI'd like to learn to speak bird like you can.
ReplyDeleteOh, the rise and fall of this is epic and drops straight through me. The cracked cauldron in particular marks out the shift from wonder into exhaustion and limns the poem with ashes.
ReplyDeleteI agree, this kingdom sucks. You've said it so beautifully though. The cauldron as womb - I never knew that, but it feels right and familiar now. I won't repeat a line here, because I'd have to recopy the whole poem. I love this one, Joy.
ReplyDeleteI am spellbound by this, Joy! Here are some lines I felt were stand-outs:
ReplyDelete"when our skin was honeysuckle,
our tongues fluent in bird,"
"The poison steam of brittle brains
evaporating madness
cracks the cauldron."
"where love is only
an argument of muscle and bone,"