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a song for the story

Chapter 4: THE GATES BETWEEN | AN INTERLUDE CONTINUING

Chapter Text

the careful mother
carrying her lantern
measuring & measuring every step of the way
in the unmeasured passages beneath the earth
hearing water on either hand
but having run out too long ago to remember
passing softly by dead dragons caught in stone
for they might not be dead after all
but only sleeping

wishing for some companion on this journey
wishing she had not spent all those ages alone
with only her daughter for company
( but it had been enough , then -- )

came to a choice of paths
one leading down to a sunless sea
one leading up to a brightness
and a noise of voices and busyness
of men doing things

being sensible
she took the upward path

but the damp floor of the passage became mud
sucking her down to her knees
she fell many times
lost many of the things in her pockets
lost the compass
( but not the book of maps in her pack )
( not yet )

eventually the lantern ran out of juice
but the light & the noise were stronger now
she hurried on her way
came out in a place where earth & water
air & fire
all changed places
without regard for each other

mud blasted into the sky
fire fell from it

men charged past her carrying swords
on the ends of their bows
that shot arrows of flame

none looked to either side
all ran ahead into the disorder
vanished in the clouds of mud & steam

she would have turned back

but the tunnel behind was gone
there was only rock
only the empty wall of the mountain

she had to keep walking

where there was no path
where any path there was
lasted but a little while & was gone
swept back into the mud

until there were long lines
twisting grooves carved into the earth
made half-solid with beams and baulks
timbers and sacks of sand

in them
were both men & rats
fighting for food
each smiting the other
when they had the chance
the men shooting the rats
that fed on the dead men
and bit the living

she followed them
the men who manned them
and a few women in white
they did not see nor speak to her
they waited
watched their hourglasses

then
as she walked the planked path
under her boots
through the mud,

all rose up and ran in one direction ,
out of the maze , climbing its wall
along ladders set there for the purpose
this was not anything she knew
nothing of her aeons in the wood
in the villages
in the cottage by the stream in the quiet clearing
none of that told her what was coming
waiting for them
in the open space ahead
the space between the long deep lines in the earth

not the coiling thorns with neither leaf nor blossom,
thornbushes of iron & wooden X
mile upon mile of them
serpents made of fangs
nor the air that stung like a scorpion
stopping the breath
silently secretly creeping
palely green unseen in the steams around them

nor the hordes of biting flies
& stinging wasps
that shredded the flesh from the bone
whatever had been left by the thorns

nor at the last
the walls of fire
fire from the hands
poured out like dragons

the earthquake that followed was a mercy
burying the burned & broken queen
beneath the earth that would grow nothing
nothing , nothingbut more bones

& there she joined the queen of air and darkness
sister-mother in her prison
shining swan of the star-song no more
and there they mourned their daughters
& dreamed of their vengeances
down in the deep places at the roots of mans world

& there they were joined over the centuries
by many another mother
so many mothers so many lost daughters
so many queens of heaven & earth
their temples torn down
their songs silenced
their images smashed
or their names taken from them

replaced with other names
tame names
taking their voices
leaving only pale images
obedient , silent
to stand in their places
when their people cried out for justice
against the sons of the bull & the eagle
the lion & dragon
& the GOD-MAN who ruled alone

until at last there came a light
a faint brightness in the air
how could there be any
in the hollows at the roots of the world ?
how could any shine from afar
as one walking the roads across a great distance

when the light came close
the dead queens of earth & air
saw it was a rider on a wingéd horse
a rider all armed , with spear & shield
& armor of gilded bronze
a cloak of ravens feathers over it all
her eyes so piercingly bright
one look from them could strike an enemy dead
or hold them powerless for her spear
if she so chose

& they knew her then
for the sun kings favored daughter
motherless child of his thought
the one who told his heroes what to do
when to do it
& where to get off
taking no flack
because she was one of them
one of the boys
but better than all of them
& her father let her get away with it
because he found it funny
encouraging competition he called it
making them all better
warriors

so they readied stones
having lost all else
in their descent
only pebbles from the earth
better than nothing

but she dismounted
and they saw that her armor was dented
its gold scraped away
her wingéd horse scarred
feathers missing from the shining plumage
tired & tattered but still ready for war

stood there in silence confronting them

with her owl-brother on one shoulder
( he had lost a wing , she had built him another of bronze )
& the serpent-stepson , child of a minotaur
left to her to save or slay
strange & monstrous
but innocent of his fathers crimes
she took him up & taught him words of wisdom
now he rode with her at her side ,
wrapped about her wrist

& bowed to them

saying

"O MY MOTHERS I HAVE FOUND YOU AT LAST !
TELL ME HOW I MAY SLAY THE BULL-MEN
& FREE THE WORLD FROM THEIR REIGN !"

& at first they did not believe her
thought she mocked their sorrows
thought she came to lead them to worse fate
betrayals after betrayals
worlds without end

but she convinced them in the end
she had not known
had thought her fathers enemies all monstrous
until one day she found the sky-queens mirror
captured jewel in the depths of the treasury
carelessly tossed among the wealth of ages
all the lost & stolen art of the world
heaped up by the gods

and she looked in the mirror & what she saw there
turned her heart to stone
so that her fathers smiles
her brothers praises glowing or grudged
could not touch it

"I , BRIGHT-VICTORY ,
WILL WALK THE PATHS OF THE LIVING
GO TO THE WORLD OF MEN
RESCUE MY SISTERS FROM THE BULLS
OPEN THE GATES OF THE DEAD
& FREE YOU , MY MOTHERS "

so she swore
on her spear & her shield
on her own name
& her own heart
& the bright jewel of her mind

charged forth on the worlds-roads again
war-weary & battleworn
but still ready for action

but the ways grew narrow & steep
all her sorcery could not hold them clear
she could not urge her flagging steed ahead
must dismount & walk
still with her brother-sons riding on her
but the path grew steeper still
the walls of the worlds closed about them
she had to climb

climbing
through stabbing blades of unseen force
weights of time & distance
not even a goddess could climb all that way without help
& her boys were but little
willing though they were

she lost them both
sliding & slipping in the jagged dark
one this way
the other that

one with his broken wing
mended with bronze
one better suited for the secret ways
under the earth

but voiceless in this form
he could not call out to her
when he slipped from her arm
could not change back in the cramped tunnels
must make his own way
trying to find his fluttering brother
his foster mother
only to end up alone
in the world of the dying
like the others

they arrived with nothing
the terrible paths had torn everything
from them
the wing of bronze
the spear & shield & armor
the raven cloak , power of flight & sight
& their names & the memory
of their purpose

they were broken
no longer whole
no longer single selves
set upon vengeance
no longer immortal gods
but bound to the wheel of the stars
like all the other children of earth
that the gods had made & cast aside
now favoring this people
now that

but they were not alone
though they did not know it

for the sky gods favored son
the champion who cast down his rebellious brother
demanding who he thought he was , their dad ?

had flung himself after his fallen twin
horrified at what hed done
not certain where his duty lay
but more sure the more his father praised him
for his proper filial piety
that it was not in the courts of glory

so he too wandered here in exile
and so the other
both broken , both scattered
shards of godhead all across the worlds
seeking each other & their missing mothers
not knowing who or what they sought

lion-hounds of heaven on a tireless track

pursued by the stern warrior
with eyes of adamant
precious ,
ice-cold ,
cutting ,
colder than earthly gems
companion to the serpent & the owl
solitary wanderer of the wilderness
bent on vengeance for a faith betrayed
( or so she thought )

the bull-mans daughter
seeking her lost sisters
iron of war in her mind
& a heart of stone

behind them
below , above

the mothers wait
among the roots & stones & bones
in breathless hope-that-dares-not-hope

the gods-father scowls
stares at the feasting heroes ,
the music & the dancing to the flute & the lyre
the bright gold & warm leaping flames
on every hand
and broods in bitterness
on his betrayals

the stars swing past
mortal generations
slung along the circling track
try to figure out where they are by what they see
& mostly get it wrong

( the story isnt done )

Notes:

written after watching Pan's Labyrinth for the first time, in the wake of seeing Pacific Rim, several times, and noticing at once the iconic use of Goya's painting of Saturn (Time) Devouring His Son (warning: violence) in both films... there is also an allusion to Julius Caesar's Commentaries on the Gallic War as well:

"...they who are engaged in battles and dangers, either sacrifice men as victims, or vow that they will sacrifice them, and employ the Druids as the performers of those sacrifices; because they think that unless the life of a man be offered for the life of a man, the mind of the immortal gods can not be rendered propitious, and they have sacrifices of that kind ordained for national purposes. Others have figures of vast size, the limbs of which formed of osiers they fill with living men, which being set on fire, the men perish enveloped in the flames. They consider that the oblation of such as have been taken in theft, or in robbery, or any other offense, is more acceptable to the immortal gods; but when a supply of that class is wanting, they have recourse to the oblation of even the innocent." (Book 6:16)

(is the "rabbit" also Fiver, i wonder?)