Long nights.
I'd walked out onto the plains to be alone others thought
observing my silence, but I'd gone into the tall grasses to answer, or listen
to the voices calling me away from the People. I could smell the meat and
plants on the fires and hear the way children and adults and barking dogs
yapping at each other sound mingled with the many sounds of the day closing
itself into night.
It isn't cool yet. It is warm with the fire of desires to
follow the lead of spirits who see men as they are, and who they will become.
Those spirits were in the night, and it is my turn to listen after asking so
many, so many questions.
We'd just come off a good hunt. The women were either
keening or singing praise songs as they prepared for the feast, and the hunters
were cleaning themselves in the nearby river. It was peaceful with no cares or
worries. The first Geese called out startling me and in answer hundreds called
out answers to whatever the first of the Geese People had said to the others.
I walked and walked naked under my blanket save for my loin
cloth, unarmed save for my prayer staff with its Eagle and Swan feathers
catching every breeze... © Gregory E. Woods, Keeper of Stories
2nd story
It isn't the sound of voices that attracts you to her. It is
the culture of tolerance and defiance marking the path before her to be a
stronger woman than the women before her. It was war that made the women
warriors. It was their children-to-come, and their children alive and their
children grown that made war necessary to keep the culture vibrant, and the
country stable.
There is more behind a veil a man does not know. There is
what he will never grasp in two lifetimes, what he will never see without
permission, what he will never become without Knowing, and what could kill him
Allah willing! © Gregory E. Woods, Keeper of Stories 1.7.13
3rd story
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