MY TRIBE

Chapped lips and insatiable seething eyes,
Unflinching stories about eternal vengeance and sacred legends of sacrifice.
Willingly embracing the inviting smell of half-roasted Elk and gulping, Mahua down their apprehensive souls.
Time-honored bone rings, circled around the slender necks of barbaric goddesses, who move, oscillating their curvaceous bodies with a ghastly sword in their deft hands, intimidating the night gods.
Effusing passion that bewilders the sane and graciously welcomes the wild,
Herculean arms, smudged with blood that tames the Panthers and a cadaverous face that mightily pleases the moon child.
The blooming wild flowers, the bone-chilling wind, the whispering forest hiding the unknown monster.
Everything holds a history, the lustrous coins along with the ghoulish sculpture.
The touch of jute and the fur of conniving fox,
Sheathing the clammy skin, of the nameless warrior,
The prayers honoring the guardians of the ocean and the window’s mite made to the spirits residing in the hills. The vows made by the dead that walk in the piercing silence of the profound darkness; the dance to please the lordship, to carefully shield us from the clever ones hiding behind the towering trees.

‘Why do you like staring at the fire so much?’ They ask.
‘I don’t know’ I lie snugly; skeptical of the imperishable truth of what I diligently see when I look at the smoldering fire.

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