A Curse

Near the grotto at the foot of the hill,
in the midst of the ancient oak wood,
the temple stands...
And there, close beside it, crouches our tranquil village.
The river gushing from the grotto sings to it in the morning,
and the waves of the nearby shore rock it
to sleep in the evening.

But at night... the gods go roaming.
And the virgins of Phoenicia scatter over the hills,
in circles, around the blazing fires, keening
for Tammuz.

The red flame drapes them in enchantment, and the sweet
smell of incense steeps the air in love
and reverence...

And Astarte moves among the throng of wailing
dancers, cloaked in sorrow and tears...
Then before long she enters the wood, to
the temple, to be alone with herself,
and weep for the god she worshipped, the god who
died before she could win from him a kiss.

★

This is what tongues passed from mouth to mouth in our village,
and this is what my grandmother would tell me
around the hearth on winter days.
Indeed, she would add:
"And ever since that time, my little one,
whoever enters the temple by night and pours
drops of his blood upon the altar... is granted
his heart's desire... but... he risks bearing
Astarte's curse forever... above all
lovers."

★

And so I lived my childhood in a world
far away... far away from this world of ours.
My companion was a boy lovelier than the dewy
meadow flower and sweeter than the calm ray of morning,
and we passed the days together.
At the mouth of the grotto and along the banks of the river
down to where it empties on the shore,
in the darkness of the many sarcophagi scattered
around the village... and among the statues,
beneath the shadows of the ancient oak wood,
and inside the temple, on the stones of the altar.

★

Then came the season of youth...
and my companion grew to manhood.
And yet
I went on living with him... and working with him,
and walking at his side in my comings and my goings,
as the sweetest of faithful friends can be.
I loved the companion of my cradle, the confidant of my girlhood,
and I gave him the place of my heart's inmost core
and the black of my eye.

★

And in May...
on one of those nights... the moon at its full,
its rays breaking on the leaves of the branches
and glittering like a road of glory over the face
of the still deep,

at midnight...
I found myself walking alone, with firm,
bold steps...
to the temple...
I violated the sanctity of the darkness in the wood...
and went treading the gold coins of light scattered
on its floor... and came at last to the temple.
There before the altar I knelt in supplication,
the sweat streaming from my body and the tears
from my eyes,
and I waited for an answer.
But who would answer?
And yet... my grandmother had said there must
be an answer.
I drew my dress from my breast and began
to wound it with a two-edged blade...
and my heart's blood flowed hot, washing the stone
of the altar before me.
My tears poured down in floods upon
my cheeks... and I heard a consoling voice say:
What do you seek, woman?
I answered: I have a man whom I carry as blood in my heart
and as light in my eyes; I have brought him to you that you may grant him
the most exalted of blessings.
He said: And what are the most exalted blessings
you ask for your young man?
I said: O you of vast perception, O you rich
in understanding and knowledge, you know best what is good for man,
and what petitions stir in the depths of my soul —
grant him the best of them, the best of them, O giver of bounties.
And the voice replied:
Very well. Your prayer has been heard, and
your heart's desire shall be given... Go in peace.

And so I put on my dress and covered my breast with my cloak, clutching it in my fist, and ran out.
The air was fresh outside the wood,
and the light sparkled over the hills and on the sands of the shore.
Suddenly I glimpsed something moving over the waves.
I shaded my eyes with my hand and peered hard:
it was a boat gliding swiftly over the silvery waters...
In its middle stood a man I knew, though I could not make out his face... and I saw another figure sitting in the stern.
I began to run, hoping I might draw near him.
But... it was hopeless...
I let my arms fall...
and the breezes of the shore drew the cloak away from the wounds of my breast,
and I stood silent, jealousy rising within me...
staring at the horizon while the vessel vanished beyond the road of light, wrapped in the glooms of darkness.
The waves loitered gently, tenderly, at my feet, and the breezes toyed with my braids...
And I remembered the legends of the village folk,
and I remembered my grandmother's words:
Whoever enters the temple by night
and pours drops of his blood before the altar
is granted his heart's desire...
but he risks bearing Astarte's curse forever... above all lovers!