Took my ax from place of pride.
Mounted on the wall.
Beside eyes blinded by times glare.
Delicate glass orbs floating.
I knew that I would fall.
There was no toppling this wall.
Made fast and high, reaching into the sky.
There was only this mode left.
Last resort, only recourse.
To take up arms to fight, to die.
Let the fire raise the sky.
Deftly we move into position, hunters gathered.
Each beside the other, yet miles apart.
Staring out of the blind.
They approach, trees splinter, a breath held.
Let fly with spear, with club, with sword.
Fill lungs to bursting, roar your battlecry.
Blood on the sand, never enough to pool.
Those bulldozers are sharp and cruel.
My fetish staff, shaman art.
None of this moves the metal beast.
Each of my ancestors peels apart under its arclight.
Dust to dust.
It rolls inexorable into the village.
Fronds parting for the arrival.
Blade lowered, shoving at the earth.
Smoothing over our legacy.
This blade has not served me well, dented and blunt.
My staff is broken, warped.
No magic left here, drained dry like the river.
Dammed to hell.
Fingers bleeding crimson along the leather flap.
Fumble open that medicine sack.
I hear the call, as bitter drops hit my throat.
Can barely keep feet under.
Time to kneel.
Skin parting under wolfen claw.
Canines bare in berzerker fury.
Who needs a club when the elements come to call.
Wind and rain will move the earth, bury the striking maul.
Heart and head throbbing with the unseen terrors.
Takes but a moment to manifest.
Engines turn no more, blades lower.
Today, the forest took another prize.
I give freely, for my village, my family.
And for the jungles boon, I paid the blood price..
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