Brazen Pleasure

After nine long months of carrying this life within her, a mother had finally given birth. A new child of the village for everyone to raise and teach the ways of their people.

The mother bundled him in clothes and held him close to her breast gracing the child with her supple skin. Refusing to let demons or any other evils that would want to steal his innocence.

The father was a cumbersome man with wisdom spilling from his essence. Dozens flocked see the child visiting his nursery, seeing a future leader in their prescence. The commosition drew the attention of a wandering travler. His garments alien to the people of the village, but the welcoming view he greeted them with dissolved any suspicion. He walked with others into the dwelling of the new born and was immediately drawn to the environment of the room. Over one side was a book of poems the book worn and old the leather hanging on for dear life, while on the opposite side was a spear decorated at the tip with an array of vibrant feathers and cultural jewels.

“Why are those hanging above the baby?” he asked inquisitively.

On lookers quickly snatched the traveler by the hand looking at him sternly for not knowing his place,  when the father abruptly stopped them.

“No, it’s fine this is the first person to ask and it is quiet remarkable that a stranger was the one to ask this question,” said the father.

The mother smiled as she stood over her child with the books of poetry in her peripheral. She gently pet the leather before looking at the boy and gestured him to come closer.

**The Mother**

*He sleeps with a book of love poems so that I know his heart will be true to the women he loves. The words he speaks will be beautiful because they will only be meant for her. When others try to interpret his words they will fall short because they were not meant for their ears. Words that will move mountains but are whispered so softly. He will know the curves of an “s, j, c” as the shape of her hips, the arch in her back, and the cup of her bottom. He will recognize her words and take her opinion in as you do with the end of a line, because that is his partner Each period, comma, and stroke line will contain her aura. Ever letter will remind him of her lips because in his mind everything she says is worth remembering. In the end he’ll know that whatever he says is truly what he believes.*

The father picks up his spear, looking at it with joy, weilding it and playing with as an old friend he is once again reunited with.

**The Father**

*The spear that looks over him is a symbol of power and wisdom. Look at the shape of the weapon the components that comprise it. The staff is his lineage his forefathers the path they traveled and lives they led resonate through thee hard oak. Each scar it bares tells him of battle for country, peace, and survival. The blade of his spears speaks upon the vision,  the pinpoint accuracy he must have in leading, whether it be into battle, his family, or in love. The beads that connect the both hold the balance between strength and wisdom. Although a leader must be strong one wrong decision can bring him to his knees and cause the downfall of not only himself but the people around him. As he thrust this magnificent weapon for the first time I want him to know that the journey it takes to it’s target is the same he will take through life. Long & difficult, but if delivered from the right hand it will hit its mark dead own. Most importantly I want him to use this always to protect what he cherishes the most, because that is how I will wield mine. *

The traveler smiles along with the rest of the village that had witnessed the events that took place. He being the only one to smirk before uttering…*That is man*

 

Contributed by Tasigh Greenidge-James