Father and Son, Pahsimeroi upon


Time set to collect, fast approaching dusk,
Wood needed for a fire, a fallen giant’s husk.
Laid down by the road, this offering from the land,
Limbs are open wide, waiting for our hand.
The duo poised to cut, quick down the mountainside,
The knowledge of the youth, elder wisdom as the guide.
As the blade goes in, wounded soldier says goodbye,
The trunk begins to groan, the chips of flesh fly.
Dead cleared from the field, a sacrifice for our race,
The living watch from the hills, a new victim grows in its place.
The partners give their thanks, as the sun sets on this life,
Its body feeds the group soul, through saw and axe and knife.
A family patiently waits, they’re gathering for the grave,
Awaiting the hunters’ return, the perfect campground made.
Now tightly circled together, ready to survive the night,
A service of the embers and a eulogy of the light.

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