So, we have come to the last segment of Song 7. You may be surprised at what happens in this part of the story. You may be appalled – even offended.
We have another section in italics within the segment below. You may want to figure out what is happening within it because the content is different than the italicized pieces before. In some ways, this italicized insert is a key to the meaning of the events in this part of the narrative.
Another development in this segment is a drastic change between the protagonist and Hart. Each of them makes a drastic decision. Whose decision is right”? Wrong? Keep an eye out for how this comes to pass, and whether the finale could have ended up differently.
The first swallow goes down burning and shoots
smoky geysers exploding in my head
My eyes twitch wildly as warm blood rushes
radiates to every finger and toe
“Drink up now,” she says downing her whole mug
I need no encouragement. This potent
liquid brings its own seduction. I down
my mug as she lifts the bottle to pour
the stream of deep gold liquid once again
I sink into a contentment so grand
I laugh out loud to feel how it holds me
steady, sure, all blame and imperfection
poor misunderstandings – all self-loathing
dreamy mist gone under sunbeams’ glitter
The third glass I let tingle in my mouth
until it burns, then gulp down pure gilt fire
“Come on,” the woman says taking my hand
Her other hand grabs the treasured bottle
and she leads me staggering toward the woods
We plod down the narrow path to its end
She leads me farther away than before
Her eyes glint red-yellow in the sunset
We keep on drinking straight from the bottle
reflecting light sparks in fluid patterns
like stars sputtering out on a shrunken sea
“There’s a place I want to show you,” she croons
I follow because she holds the bottle
Pressing on, we reach a forest circle
In the center, two huge pine trunks have grown
from one set of roots, and all around them
copper needles fallen over jade moss
Faint daylight puts all in shadowy whirlpools
My head spins and my body feels so light
I flop down cross-legged and close my eyes
watching the blurring thoughts and fading self
All that matters is where I’m sitting now
where the restless doubts are finally stilled
It doesn’t matter why or how I’m here
only that I’m free of doubt and of fear
I don’t want to open my eyes or move
I want to drift and dream inside myself
When my heavy lids do flutter open, the woman stands
naked—clothes thrown aside – both shoes untied
“Take off your clothes,” she whispers, “and lie down
here with me on this bed under the trees.”
“Give me another drink,” I slur coyly
“Your clothes first, then drink,” she teases holding
the blessed bottle high over her head
“You win,” I submit and sway to standing
pull off my thin shirt, and fall down backwards
stagger up, kick off shoes and strip naked
“What a beauty,” she admires looking up
and down my length. “I think I’ve won the prize.”
“Now the bottle,” I smile and cajole her
“I’ll help you drink,” she purrs moving closer
As she lifts the bottle to my wide mouth,
she presses her breasts and thighs against me
I swallow fiercely in case she keeps it
I sway then crumple face down on the ground
She rolls me over and straddles my hips
I don’t care what she is doing to me
Within, I tumble over some high edge
fall toward the center of my spinning head
Her hair falls around my face as her mouth
locks mine and her tongue probes my lips open
My hands and arms spread limp on the mosses
From far away I hear the woman moan
I don’t care what she is doing to me
I’m too immersed in what I see inside
spirals snaking down toward a bright abyss
She rubs her body wildly on my hips
I look up. Shuddering breasts is all I see
their nipples gorged and rigid near my mouth
I turn my head. “Another drink,” I smile
and peer around her chest to see her face
She grunts and grabs the bottle propped against
the giant double pine trees’ rough-skinned trunks
She lifts my head and holds it in one hand
and pours the gold fire down my open throat
“That was so good,” I sigh falling farther
She resumes her harsh, frantic rubbing strokes
on my yielding, limp body, then she throws
her head back and howls like some massive beast
while I fall down unending dim channels
of green-golden spirals swirling tumbling . . .
I lie on a grassy ledge peering down
into a clear blue pool lined with coral,
sand, and gray-green sea rocks. I am searching
desperately for the beloved I’ve lost
The water’s ripples distort my vision
I dive into the blue, sight blurring more
I can’t stop the search though my lungs may burst
When I think I can no longer hold breath,
I see a shadow shift drifting below
Frantically, I stroke toward it, grab its arm
rising with the bubbles to the surface
I drag the cold limp body to the ledge
begin long, warm breaths into the slack mouth
I exhaust my own breath as the body
sputters, gags and spits itself back to life
I roll over on my back next to it
and wait with my eyes closed to regain strength
As I open them, the lost one once more
has left – a trail leads to the water’s edge
A second time I submerge searching ‘til
drowning breaks my lungs while again I see
the floating form – again I pull the shape
ashore -- resuscitate ‘til I’m ashen
Once more, I close my eyes – dreaming the dream
Waking, a worn track heads for the water
Each time I rouse and launch the search, bringing
up the one who should be dead and I have
no strength to keep breath in the frail body
not enough to end the rescues or find
my watery quest ends each time denied
I wake exhausted in a foggy blue
lying naked on a cold wooden floor
The smell of vomit makes me wretch again
but the spasms are dry, unproductive
“Good morning,” comes a sing-song female voice
I bolt upright and demand, “Where is Hart!?”
“I haven’t checked. Do you want some breakfast?”
She asks like this happens every morning
“No! Where are my clothes!?” I am angry now
“There,” she points to a heap near the woodstove
I pull them on, groggy, stumbling, while she
just continues stirring and says nothing
I run frenziedly to the broken dock
The red boat is still there but Hart is not
Delirious with fear and nausea
I race back to the shack and choking shout,
“What have you done with Hart!? Tell me now, witch
I grab her arm and whirl her to face me
but she swings the other fist straight at me
and the punch lays me flat on the foul floor
“Such a short distance between love and hate”
She wags her finger at me and turns back
to the wood stove and her nonstop cooking
“Where is Hart!?” I demand getting back up
“How should I know my sweetest woodland love.”
“I’m not your love!” I gag once more at the
thought of what has happened to me, and worse
of what unearthly things she’s done to Hart
“You should be more careful how much you drink.
Don’t try to keep my pace. You’re not a match.”
I grab her greasy hair - yank her head back
“Ow!” She yelps. “Now you’ve gone and made me mad.”
Her booted foot kicks hard into my knee
I grasp the table to keep from falling
This is all futile – she’ll tell me nothing
I bolt out the door and run limping back
into the woods where I trip and fall but
keep on going wildly searching for Hart
Looking for a shallow grave, I scramble
toward the onion patch, but there is no sign
of a grave or ground disturbed anywhere
I sink to my knees on the fragile plants
and bury my face in my hands and sob
‘til I can barely breathe. I tear soil up
by the fistful scattering tender plants
I wail and scream alone and no one hears
“What have I done!? What have I done!?” I gasp
and it is worse not knowing what I’ve done
then if my tears fell on Hart’s ravaged corpse
I run back to the dock and to the boat
I drop down and see a scrap of paper
wedged in the storage lid. I grab and read
the scrawled words – “I stayed as long as I could”
Hart’s alive! Just gone. I have to follow!
I rip the line off the piling, grab oars
and row away from this snake-lead nightmare
and toward what I can only guess and fear
I stroke hard back down the curving channel
I don’t know if he’s gone this way but it
feels right to row fast away from that place
I reach the river far faster than when
we followed the snake to that broken pier
As I enter the breadth of the river
I know with a steady inner compass
which way Hart would turn – upriver and home
I pull hard against the current both to
skirt the main flow and to stay close to shore
I strain my eyes for Hart’s thin, limping form
and when I think my arms and lungs will break
Hart appears, heading north, just as I thought
crippled, facing home, swaying side to side,
determined and thoroughly one-pointed
When I pull alongside, no greeting comes
just keeps plodding ahead toward Chickopee
hung from the left shoulder, a blanket pack
“Hart! I am so sorry!” My voice breaking
but no sign of recognition at all
I beach the boat and go running after
Two limping cripples, but my wound lies far
inside and not in my leg, and I soon
catch up and wildly plead, “Please listen, Hart!
“Please listen! I was so wrong. Talk to me!
I’ll do whatever you want from now on.”
Stopping short, Hart whirls, and glares with loathing
“It’s too late! What’s done is done. I begged you
to leave, but no, you chose her and not me!”
“What can I do to change your mind?” I plead
“You? Nothing. You’ve already done too much.”
Hart continues steady walking northward
“You were right,” I sob. “I was so stupid.”
Suddenly, Hart turns and points at my head
“You were drunk and naked and so was she
I’m crippled but not blind! You make me sick!
It was quite clear you both enjoyed yourselves.”
“Hart, I was drunk. It all makes me so sick.”
“That usually happens when you drink too much.”
Spittle lands in the sand next to my feet,
Hart turns, says no more, and presses on North
I run and grab an arm. “Please Hart! Please. Please.”
Shaking me off, the final words bitter
“Go! Get away from me! Leave me alone!
The cutting words reverberate in my head
and I know this is irretrievably
finished – gone beyond any rescue – but
I call after that I will wait right here
for days – for a coming back – words grow weak
as I drop to the wet, cold-river sand
I watch ‘til there is nothing more to see
An empty boat. The river. Sea-bound me.
Background:
The incidents narrated in this segment are almost predictable based on the dynamics, personalities, and motivations of the characters. The woman has obviously been on her own for quite some time, and her moral compass appears skewed. Perhaps she has harbored fairly normal urges that because of her isolation have emerged in unsavory ways. As for our main character, we have to wonder if this is the first encounter with intoxication. Falling for the woman’s importunities, a grand cascade of base instincts and quick satisfactions fall over better natures. Haven’t we all been in similar situations? If not, doubts and fears have probably blocked the way. And although the doubts and fears may feel inconvenient at the time, they do their job very well.
Exploration 1: Have you, or someone you know well, ever done something which resulted in great regret, anger at self, and/or sorrow? Can you also have compassion for yourself? Are you able to generate compassion for our protagonist?
Exploration 2: Do you find it believable that the main character would fall into the woman’s seduction? What kind of emotions does this segment of the Song bring up?
Exploration 3: Do you think that Hart did the right thing in the end? Would you be in favor of his decision? Examine his motives and the emotions underlying his decision. Would you be able to leave a dear friend who had done what the protagonist did?
Exploration 4: In comments made related to prior segment posts, some of you expressed eagerness for the appearance of dragons. Several have already appeared. Can you identify any or all of them?
NEXT: Song 8 – The City – Segment 1
You can read the full texts of Songs 1-6 by clicking here.
Finally, a sex scene. But it's rape, not sex. The main character is oblivious to his or her degradation thanks to the bottle which provides a psychedelic rather than an alcoholic ecstasy.
ReplyDeleteHart is a prig, so it's reasonable that he leave the journey. Perhaps he'll appear later.
Have I ever done anything that caused me regret, anger, or sorrow? Only two or times a week, when things are going well. But one mustn't grumble.
The MC is a risk taker so I'm not surprised by what happens.
Dragons are not always evil, so both Jani and the hag could be dragons.
Somehow I missed this comment from the 15th. After first reading WW's comment, coming back to yours gives me a chance to say a couple of other things that I didn't say in my reply to WW.
DeleteWhew! I say. I was worried about this sex scene; how much are readers willing to stomach, esp. when as you say, "it's rape, not sex"? Your description in your first paragraph is an excellent summary.
I am intrigued by your take on Hart as a "prig." I'm curious what you would advise him to do instead. Hey, if you answer, I may revise this part of the narrative. Who knows?
Regarding regret, sure sounds like you are way too hard on yourself. In all the time I've known you, I've never observed any of your behaviors as worthy of regret. But again, I may be too literal here; perhaps your answer is tongue in cheek. Having been raised in near-isolation as a child, I'm not good on social cues and nuances.
Dragons? Your take is certainly a worthy interpretation; however, if you would like a literal hint, think more in the direction of true reptiles, with the species exception of the blue dragonfly waaaay back near the beginning. Spoiler alert: nine dragons in all appear in our story.
I am grateful for the time and attention you are giving to this unfolding epic. A poet finds encouragement and inspiration from her audience, no matter how few members. Numbers don’t count. Relationships do.
Having lost any grasp of this immense epic, I read it this week with some trepidation hoping to glean something from it I could secure, safely I might add, as a magical alignment of everything for me in simple fashion, perhaps as thimbles carefully placed across the rough surface of an old table in the obvious shape of a star, whereupon I could say, without shadow of a doubt, "Ah ha! Hooyah. A star!" but it was not to be.
ReplyDeleteAll was lost again until I began reading a scene that perked my imagination, in the erotic sense. "Wait a minute," I said to myself. " Is this Wannaskan Almanac or have I stumbled into a different website? I'll have to bookmark this ...."
But date rape isn't something to accept.
I learn of her separation from Hart and their falling out, and that he's 'been there, done that' with her a time or three already and is done with it. He decides to do what is healthy for him, and if she finally 'gets it' then she will become healthier too, but not on his dime anymore. He's invested too much already.
As for Exploration I, I regret not being decisive as Hart, even from what little I know of him in this episode, when he confronts the narrator and decides to go on by himself, even as she writhes in pain. I would turn this tale on its tail and insert me at 21 as another version of myself and frame the scene, at the church in Des Moines where I am about to get married for the first time in 1973.
"This is a HUGE mistake," I'd say to myself. "And you know it. Be a man and stop this.
But, so not to disappoint 'everyone' I went through with it.
During our divorce proceedings, after technically ten years of marriage, (we lived together for eight; the last three in Minnesota) she said that had we talked honestly, after our honeymoon to Minnesota, she would've asked for an annulment. She could see life on the farm, in Minnesota, wasn't for her.
Hey, I really like my work being called an “immense epic.” But then, big is not necessarily better. Perhaps the work has other positive characteristics (if not all positive characters) evidence by your willingness to continue to read and comment. I can only hope the story doesn’t let you down.
DeleteYes, this is a wide-ranging story, and thus it contains a vast amount of experiences. (There are plenty of characters as well, but don’t worry, I won’t even approach a Russian novel. Tolstoy is safe.) Anywho, I agree with your statement that “date rape isn’t something to accept.” I hope the scene in context didn’t give that impression. But then, few of us escape unscathed from experiences of “bad sex,” or even no sex at all. Heck, you make the point for me with your generous openness about your Des Moines et.al. marriage.
Then there’s that not-so-little dynamic called karma; if that word feels too Asian, just think cause-and-effect.” As the saying goes, “there will be hell to pay” as the narrative progresses. So, in summary, my intent for the scene you refer to is not to shy away from one of the biggest taboos humans have: sex, in general, and vile sex in particular. This topic looms large in society. I don’t have to tell anyone that. The point is, our main character could hardly be on such a journey without running into some unscrupulous people.
Love your take on Hart. As a man of principles, yourself, it takes one to know one.
I invite you to continue reading. I will do my very best not to disappoint. Oh, and just wait until we get to “Darkness Rising.” A much more balanced take on experience.