by Gary Every
Forty thousand years ago
and miles beneath the earth
the drums beat and beat
as both pilgrims and initiates
shuffle their feet.
These first humans follow
the rocky uneven cavern path
guided only by flickering smoky torches,
wandering narrow passageways
in silence
until this subterranean chamber
opens into a large room
as if the pilgrims and initiates
are entering earth’s womb.
Here the bonfires are blazing
and the rock walls are painted
with portraits of magnificent beasts;
bone, hoof, horn, fur and fang
flowing as if in motion.
The priestess shamaness steps forward
with a bulging belly, big butt, and large drooping breasts
which drape across the slope of her stomach.
Her body is adorned with red tattoos
aligned in geometric shapes.
The shamaness tells stories of birth, rebirth,
migrations and revolving seasons.
She holds aloft an ivory figurine
carved from mammoth tusk;
a human body with a lion’s head
“He is” she says, “The guardian of the dead.”
He approaches, wandering between stalagmites and stalactites,
a man wearing a lion’s head
but his soul is possessed by the guardian of the dead.
While the bonfire burns,
the drums beat
and the heart yearns,
he tells stories of the animals painted on the walls,
hoof, bone, fur, fang, and horn.
He speaks of the web of life
and how we are not the spider who weaves it.
From the folds of his lion skin robe
he produces a vulture wing bone
with five puncture holes.
This is the very first musical instrument
made from a bird who feeds upon death
who sails the skies so effortlessly
that it can carry prayers all the way to heaven.
The initiates and pilgrims
gather before the cavern gallery
listening in startled splendor
to the very first song
while the animals dance in harmony.