The Writer's Cramp - Of The Buffalo

Of The Buffalo

The thunder booms above as the lightening flashes across the sky
It cracks down within feet of where I stand
I see a crevice in the shadowy mountain wall.
I run for cover, as the unlit sky seems to darken

The crevice is smaller then I remember as a child
I bend down to enter the cave I have entered many times
I run my hand along the wall, tearing my skin
Pulling my hand to my mouth I suck on the rip

I taste blood
The lightening flashes
It reveals the hieroglyphics
It flashes again

I stare in fascination at the walls
I close my eyes
The lightening makes an imprint on my mind's eye
The hunter's yells are real to me

I open my eyes
I see the hunters on horse back
Spears sharpened to kill
The booming thunder empasizes the war call of the hunters

Rain washes the dust that flys from the pounding hoofs of the buffalo
The lightening flashes again
I see the hunters spears
I close my eyes

I see them again

The hunters dripping hair slaps at their eyes
Their sweat mixes with the paint slathered on their faces
The paint appears as dripping blood of red and black
The war cries overcome the valley

The buffalo run from their torment as their blood is spilled
I taste their blood in my mouth
I spit and open my eyes
The lightening flashes

I see the pictures drawn in red, on the perspiring walls
The red seems to drip, yet it never moves
I close my eyes again
I see the spears pierce the hides of the animals

I here screams of the buffalo grow louder
I watch the fearless hunters chase their kill
I hear the plunge of the spear as it sinks into the flesh
The cries of the buffalo scream louder

As the knives pierce the under bellies
The hunters reach for the hearts of their victories
Tasting the warmth of their kill
I open my eyes

The lightening flashes
I close my eyes once more
The hunters dance around their quarry as they thank their Gods
The sounds in the wind are of dying animals

I open my eyes and stare as the lightening flashes
Once again I taste the blood of the animals
I return to the rain
I listen to the the thunder and recall the death

Of the buffalo