Old Man Na'pi and the First Mother and Child

adapted from a Blackfoot creation story

After Na'pi modelled them from clay
and spoke the word of life to make them breathe,
first off, the Woman asked him, "Will we live
forever? Or will there be an end to it - we die?"

"I had not thought about it. Yes, we must
decide. If what I throw into the river
floats, then all of you will live forever.
But if it sinks, you will return to dust."

Then he bent down, picked up and threw a bone
into the river, and it floated there.
"No," said the woman, "I will choose. We are
the ones to live or die." She chose a stone

and said, "If this stone floats, then we will live.
And if it sinks, we people all will die,
so, while we live, knowing that this must be,
we may learn pity, share each other's grief."

The woman threw the stone. It sank. Na'pi
then spoke. "As you have chosen, it shall be.
Your life shall have an end and you will die.
You will know endless sorrow. So shall I."

Reliquary: the Amanti of Valdaro

Here in Mantova (where Romeo
bought physic to unlock the gyves
of love and death, the knottiness of lives)
                two teenage lovers’ skeletons
                                lie lip to lip,
                embracing; legs drawn up,
entwined – a dusty fossil nest of bones.

They’ve slept thus for six thousand years or so.

                Now their fine privacy’s displayed
to the gawp of common view, betrayed
by prurient, irreligious times, and time.

Yet, under the spotlight, like a sun
parching the deserts of eternity,
                they still remain a talisman,
a bracelet of bright bone;

                and we, their audience, sense
a commonality
                with our experience,
and find in them a paradigm:
                we’re born, we die;
                                and in between,
we find our comfort as we can.

                Yes, they were young and young love is
appalling in its innocence. And yes,
they died before they knew the need to grieve
                all that time undoes.

                Yet still we set up love
against inevitable death -
                not that it’s stronger but because
it offers consolation as we weave
our fears and feelings in a single wreath.

My love, although we are no longer young
                and know it’s not for long,
                                our comfort’s in
                                the feel of skin
                as those young lovers’ was.

                                Though truth to tell,
each touch is both hail and farewell.

© 2019 Nicholas Bielby