If you're off to this town

What you don't know will hurt you.

Heed what the old folks say

        When the sky is dipped in deepest gray

and the moon lurks beneath the scarlet bay:

Halt. Do not.

Just heed what the old folks say.

 

If a wind dead frigid blankets your face

and your veins a stream frozen at winter’s toiling

Pins and needles;

swim into the gushing

Against your nape a kiss be laid onto.  

Here, boughs stretched like limbs on the eaves

all bones-

pulled apart.

 

Heed what the old folks say

               If an eagle’s cry hurl in tones affray  

and a raven’s squawk fall chorus past midday:

Freeze. Move not. 

Do heed what the old folks say.

 

If you chanced to meet eyes hollow as a well;

empty as starless October

Gather up your guts if they turn luminescent   

a glaring filthy red

Its core-

an ember aglow.       

 

Heed what the old folks say

      Don’t leave a woman with a babe astray

flesh and skin they are to flay:

Shhh. Speak not.

Ye heed what the old folks say.

  

Heed the lore of ancient Acacia;

a clattering will soon break into the wake

something cold and angry and hungry breathes

beneath the brushwood and the leaves:

Primeval is the fear its talons’ weave;

old as Earth, wicked as the Gods.   

 

Heed what the old folks say

If you’re off to this town in May

If you didn’t, It is sinister that could have befell 

The old folks have known too well.

                                                         You chose your fate, you chose to stay.

                                                And to my dismay, here’s what I have left to say:

                                                                                 Breathe. 

                                                                            Breathe deeper…

                                                                                     RUN. 

 

 

Author's Note

Apparently, this piece was inspired by the omens and superstitious beliefs in my country about the folk devils/ flesh- eating monsters, (we call them, "Aswang") told by the elders in the mountains and remote provinces.

... supposed to be a sort of Halloween special, but I was busy observing the customs and of course, heeding what the old folks say.

Reviews

[Michael G. Smith]

Another excellent piece. You are a master storyteller.

[akihsna]

"Aswang" sounds somewhat thai-ish so are you from Thailand?^^ I really loved it since I'm pretty curious about folklore and ancient sayings, stories, legends :)
And this poem of yours is clearly portraying each aspect of the old folks from your country. Really nice. I enjoyed the read :)