Obsidian

 

Obsidian

 

Obsidian glass was forged by the gods in the volcanic furnaces of prehistoric Mexico. When broken apart, it produces a cutting edge up to five times sharper than the finest steel blades ever honed by man. It is used to save lives by heart surgeons today, just as the ancient priests used it to sacrifice young hearts to the gods who were so addicted to blood that they demanded more and more.

The girl in the poem that follows could be Choitso, the youngest daughter of a Mesoamerican nobleman who has seven daughters and has been convinced by a priest that Tlaloc the Aztec rain god demands his youngest daughter to save his crops, and the rest of his family.   Choitso is a willing participant in the coming horror when an obsidian knife will split the skin at the base of her rib cage.  Stripped naked, blue chalk is patted all over her normally bronze colored body and she is lightly drugged.  The initial cut will be almost painless.  But, when the priest pushes his hand past her lungs and takes hold of her beating heart, the pain is quite intense until the blade frees the warm organ from her chest and her still flinching body is cast down the steps of the altar.

But then again the girl might be Betty, the pregnant fourteen year old daughter of a Canadian Rancher who happens to be a respected member of the small parish church in her town.  He has always held a tight reign on Betty, as if she was one of his broncos.  Yet still, she has practically worshipped him all her life.  Betty will feel as if her heart has been ripped from her body after the tiny fetus with its own beating heart is removed from her womb.  It was in accordance with her father’s wishes, not her own. For the rest of her life, Betty will ask herself why her father was more important to her than her son.

 

Or she may be Adara, a devoted follower of Allah who has been attending meetings with her older brother Hashim at a small Mosque near her village. Adara believes that ‘it’ should not be all up to the men.  She has decided that sacrificing herself by walking onto a crowded bus in Jerusalem with explosives around her chest will honor Allah and make a better life for her brother’s children. When she sets off the bomb, she will feel no pain as it rips her heart into a thousand pieces and kills fourteen people, one for every year of Adara’s precious and beautiful life.

Obsidian

 

I’m not so sure if this is right.
I wanted so much more.
But in honor of my father
it seemed all right to me.

For him, not me, I do believe,
‘cause I’m the one who dies.
But he will surely mourn me then,
after my life has gone.

Tomorrow at the rising sun
I’ll wake and thank this god
for using me for sacrifice.
Just fourteen when I died.

She says it hardly hurts at all,
but how can that be true....
I’ll never hold my first born child,
or know the touch of love.

 “Will you be tender with me still?”
I ask my fathers god.
Or also throw me down stone steps.
Blue dust and dirt my cloak.

Cast down in sin, an empty chest,
blood crusted on my skin,
And will I walk forever more,
in scary caves and tombs?

Or will god give it back to me,
or does his greed prevent.
For he demands this I am told.
That I, my heart must lose.

“Drink this dear, it will ease the pain.”
She offers me a cup.
“And when the blade touches your skin,
Exhale, and hold your breath.”

 “Have you a child?” I interrupt,
“Why yes dear, I have three.”
“I’ll drink your potion soon enough,
but for a while, just hold me.”

Reviews

[...]

. brilliantly creative, my friend ... sheer genius ... but more than that poignant beyond measure ... parental expectations ... (those of brothers too - you'll shudder if i tell you about mine) ... can eliminate us ... before we have died ... sometimes i think ... all of us our heroes ... and must be kind to ourselves ... (i wrote something connected - have unpublished it - but mailing it to you in just a few minutes) ... thank you for this, my most gifted and sensitive friend ...

[SR Urie]

Hey Sean,
Unique setting up of an eye opening poem. A young woman, adolescent beauty that she is, gives her life for her family and her father's idea of servitude to a generous "god." As inhumane and far fetched and dispicable as it sounds, it happens every day, has happened since the beginning of History, and will continue to happen, hopefully not for too much longer.
Great read, sir! BZ

If you like, you may take a look at a similarly shocking bit of text called "Hazanabad."

[Tate Morgan]

Sean it is a monument to your thoughts and feelings.We who know the truth and are not blinded by the retoric see what other do not wish and it is sad so many follow those above them teach my children to question and delve into claims even those of the church

[Vaishali..^_^]

i'm shocked...!
this was so sad...!and true..
great write..thanks for sharing...!

[Ellen Hammond]

Wow! Sean, you are truly a man of compassion, able to empathize with those who are not able to speak for themselves. This thought provoking poem tells the sad truth of how children, especially girls, suffer in silence out of fear and/or obedience to their fathers' religious, or otherwise, beliefs. You have presented the sad story, yet written it ambiguous enough that it can be related to many different atrocities. A special talent you have been blessed with. Thanks for sharing it with us.

[Slender Smile/Husna Tay..]

So sad...:'(
and so true...
young girls all over d world in d name of religion has been used, exploited and killed for their own perverse and saddistic pleasure and happiness.
This poem.....has left me tears for all such girls out there and for womanhood.

[Honeypot]

This seems to be a poem about how young girls can be mislead and forfeit their lives in payment to others. It could represent any number of situations, every one of them sorrowful. I think this was really well done, and it seems like a project that is close to your heart. I think this is one that you can be proud of.

[Pratibha]

i am SHOCKED....i have no words Sean...nothing is coming to my empty emotionless brain now...nothing. i am blank, i am lost, i am scared to be a woman