breath and words
They will build me the temple and I will forget my life. They have taken me by the shoulders when the dreams have taken me and said, “Mutxen, this is over now.” They have dressed me in the raiment of the divine weave, they have taken the adornment from my hair. I stand before the buffalo with the open hands. She sees into my eyes, she has seen, as they have seen. My hands take the hands of my people in them, fuller hands. Fuller hands take the horns gentle and pull. I have seen. They say to me, “Your hands are of heaven now.” I stand with fuller hands before the people who build the bamboo into the courage of sky, the strength of hill. Stalks bend beneath the kiss of heaven. I stand with fuller hands before the people who build the dressed stone into the skeleton of the temple. As they build me the temple, I forget my life. They put strong sad hands on my chest. They put strong sad eyes in my eyes. It is as a death. They say with heavy throats, “Mutxen, you feel our hands, then you will not see our hands. Mutxen, you feel our eyes, then you will not see our eyes. Mutxen, you feel our burdened throats, then you will not see our throats even when they are free of grief. Mutxen, this is over now. This is the last time.” Their teeth flash in the air and the girls carry the drink on their heads. With wide careless mouths they drink the wine of the fruit. The strength of hill is in the wine, their heads fly in the air above the mund. This is the last time.
