The Ghosts of Heaven Read Free

you.”
    He takes one last look,
    then turns away, and goes back to the boy.
    His hand touches his shoulder,
    and the one who goes to the cave has made his choice.
    Her head hangs, and her heart is angry, and then,
    the one who goes to the cave comes back,
    shoves her shoulder so she stoops before him.
    He reaches to the fire’s edge and takes burned wood.
    Puts it in her hand.
    Carry , he says, and she knows she has been chosen.
    Chosen, not to make magic, not to go into the caves,
    not to go into the dark and make magic.
    She has been chosen to carry.
    There will be paint. And reeds.
    And torches for fire. And a bow for protection from beasts.
    And she will carry, while they climb free.

 
    VI
    Those who will cross the water have left,
    leaving her, the boy, and the one who goes to the cave.
    They don’t seem to notice her.
    They have forgotten she exists,
    now that she is ready, with a basket.
    And in the basket:
    reeds, hollow,
    the rock that burns to red,
    charcoal from the fire ash,
    the things to make fire.
    He who leads the hunt
    has given her a bow,
    with more than one arrow,
    long feathered shafts,
    which she will use before the dark is done.

 
    VII
    At the water’s edge, the great lake waits,
    lapping lazily against the shore,
    against the shins of the people as they climb aboard the canoes.
    These boats are old,
    but they have made this journey many times,
    and the people believe in their boats.
    They push out.
    Climb aboard.
    Four to a canoe.
    One in front to see.
    Two in the middle to paddle,
    one to carry the weapons that they will need to kill the beasts.
    The half-moon light
    guides their way.
    The night air is wet and cool,
    and they shiver from the air on their skin.
    Their furs lie on the ground, far behind them;
    wet fur is heavy and colder than nothing at all,
    but they shiver as the air strokes their skin.
    Soon, the two who paddle will be warm
    from their work,
    while the others
    will feel the cold all the way to the far shore.
    The far shore; half a night away.
    Paddles dip, silently,
    unseen,
    each stroke leaves twin spirals
    spinning in the water behind.
    In, push, out.
    Twin spinning spirals in the night-dark water.

 
    VIII
    She watches.
    The one who goes to the cave pulls off his fur.
    He points at the boy, who does the same.
    They turn and look at her, just once.
    He who goes to the caves gestures now,
    and her furs fall to the ground.
    He who goes to the caves nods, grunts, satisfied.
    He points to the things she will carry, turns,
    and walks into the night forest,
    under the cliffs, that hang high above them
    and the people,
    and the boats and the beasts,
    and the lake,
    and everything.
    He who goes to the cave leads the way,
    with the blue-gray light by which to see,
    but he knows the way because he has made it his own.
    It has become his.
    Till now, when he hands it on to the boy he has chosen.
    The boy’s mind is full of fear,
    the old man’s mind feels only the years.
    As she walks behind, the basket digs
    into her bare skin.
    The bow is slung across her shoulders,
    the arrows in her hand.
    The torches sit,
    unlit, in the basket on her back.
    Grasses whip against her legs, but her feet are tough.
    And in the unseen green by her feet,
    nesting and alarmed,
    a snake coils, ready to strike.
    Its body pulls in on itself, around and around,
    and it tenses, holds.
    But they pass and it uncoils,
    curling around its eggs once more.
    So she doesn’t see the snake,
    and yet, she’s thinking.
    She’s thinking about the mark she made
    in the fireside sand.
    Something is trying to speak to her.
    But it goes as soon as it tries to appear in her thoughts.
    Then she’s thinking about something else.
    Three things:
    the fronds of ferns,
    the shell of the snail, and then,
    a falcon.
    She saw the bird on the walk before the waterfall.
    Saw it stooping from the sky
    Saw how it dropped, not in a line,
    but in the shape of the shell,
    the form of the fern