Kheba: In the Crumbled Rubble of Uruk

And there she lay in splay of ruin — Uruk — as if torn apart by evil bruin and, indeed, she had been; only the splendorous Temple of Innana stood in radiance in bright light of new sun rising on newly begun day, yet in complete disarray. People could be seen like ants running to and fro and in between half-eaten buildings, bitten by the Watchers. The great city had been hard smitten by foul attack, but evidently in no lack of defense… Uruk did, after all, survive, and she would revive.

Some sizeable clouds rolled across high-sky, teasing of rain without appeasing, proud they could partly shroud war-torn land without answering demand for much-needed water. As I drew nearer, the slaughter was unimaginable; the day hotter than usual, which only worsened matters for the  rotters. And where was the Mater, Innana, in all this? She may as well have been little more than squatter! How many lives had been lost, tossed into netherworld, to defend her precious parental temple?

“A bit harsh, don’t you think?” came familiar voice. “In blink of an eye, you shrink from grace and lace your thoughts with condemnation.”

I turned. My heart burned. No better sound could have entered my ear, and no dearer sight could have met my eyes than the one I beheld: Kheba. Battle weary but alive, she revived this weary man, smiled and piled on kiss after kiss. “Did you think I wouldn’t miss you? That I wouldn’t worry that you had to leave in such a hurry, to scurry through wasteland filled with haunting band of ghosts and wraiths?” And I made most of the moment and held her tightly, pressing lips to lips again. And all doubt about what had happened left as I breathed out with one great heave. Leave such foolishness and believe, I told myself. If Kheba fought, she brought sister with her, too! This much I suddenly knew.

“And Metuşelah and Lemek?” I asked as we continued our trek back into Uruk, or what was left after being horrifically ransacked.

“No death toll has rung for those two. Except for a few wounds, they do well,” Kheba answered. “But you? Tell me what happened to you? I knew your journey would be hard and fraught with danger, perhaps even bought at the price of your life… Yet here you are alive, and though worn you somehow seem to thrive.” She took pause to consider the cause. “Ah … you met Şifalâhe … after being saved from blight of Ddiafol and set aright again … and you sank into crystalline lake, and drank freely sweet honey of heaven. Am I right in my divine hindsight?” She swung me around off my feet and began to beat in laughter.

“Oh, the gods! The gods! Never did human trod this earth as mysterious as the gods!” I had to laugh, as well, but then chaff from the ruins floated round about. “But how can you be so joyous and buoyant in chorus of mirth amid such death and dearth?”

“Well, we finally won by the rise of yesterday’s sun; at great cost, for  many, many were lost. We scorned and cursed the Watchers even as we mourned family and friends fallen … but in that hour victory was ours.” Kheba looked at me squarely, barely able to continue. “Even still, I had no joy, no thrill in having bested the enemy, especially having invested so much blood to do so… Oh, no. No … my joy comes in seeing you, and being here, right where I am now … after all, even the goddess knows true love.”

.

.

Advertisement

Bedouin Backtracks: Someone is Watching

Where to go now and how? Would I wander forever? Should I? Does the Bedouin live fonder life? Though I seriously pondered remaining in verdant hills in thrill of life, beside crystalline lake, heart and mind moved me to take the advice of my shadowy savior. But yonder where should I wander now? No, I could not falter! I would alter my course and return to the source of this new and strange episode; after all, in the end I did not erode, but exploded into new and vibrant life! I was not the same as when I first came; someone had saved and made claim upon me while freeing me at the same time to the celebratory chime of the heavenlies. It was settled, then: With mettle I would return to Uruk with stern determination, where I yearned to be again with Kheba…

And so I began descending the hills with but one plan, as if some guiding hand were driving me across the desert sand. No longer breeze; seize of hot wind pounded me, confounded me, but my direction seemed still sure, even through wind-dust and sun-glare blur. Someone spurred me onward toward Uruk … toward Uruk. Every step forward toward my destination was made in painful determination; more than frustration, threatening complete expiration. Yet in expectation of achieving my goal my soul was revived, though the wind sounded like howling dhole. And what did troll behind and around me? I did not know, but would not let fear grow. Truly this was uzak-yerde, but surely I was not alone. If I’d been prone to cry for help, though, who would have heard the little chirping bird in this dæmon-spurred storm; the thought was absurd, but courage stirred again and I remained undeterred.

Then in the swirling sand, blurring vision, I caught a glimpse that brought a chill, even in the heat, to the seat of my soul. Dark shape, stark eyes, drape of black and crimson, cape of vermilion interlaced with hue of reddish blue; long silken hair of regality in pair with face of celestial birth that told of his worth… And I understood: Here stood before me an infamous Watcher with no good intention, no pretention of mercy; in his empty soul, no retention of heaven; his sole purpose to leaven the earth with foul offspring and destroy the beauty of creation; this was his duty. That this Watcher would bother to botch my trek, and wreck my journey back to Uruk was quite the prize of surprise, grand knock of shock! Why would he take interest in me, and make such effort…? Ah! Perhaps it was no strain for him to gain my life’s blood on desert plain.

And was there here anyone else, or was I alone? Someone to intervene, or would I here be undone? New life ended so shortly begun?

.

.

Uzak-Yerde  —  remote place; distanced from community/society

Long is the Night; Long the Road…

Long is the night to those for whom sleep doth fight; long and dreary the road to the weary; longer still is the cycle of life for those who live in strife … within and without, so rife with pain and no gain of peace in lease of time. Such was my frightful flight east away from beastly terror now marauding Uruk, stalking the countryside round about; the sound of such blight still floating on light wind, but I would not stop to bend knee, though free to pray. Kheba told me to stay the course, and though I may travel alone, an ill-suited fool-companion would only cavil and unravel my senses, lowering my heart and mind defenses, putting me in closer range of physical danger, as well…

But I’d reached the desert sand, where dæmon band could be heard clear as warped and twisted bird on this my third night of flight. My water skin was now dry — and did I try not to consider my thirst — but there would be water if only I could make it to yonder hills where lay still ponds and gentle brooks, or so it looked, if not an illusion born of my mind of confusion. No matter; I’d made my resolution from the revolution underway in my soul being purified by deprivation, new creation within; that is, the manifestation of determination and sobriety, of illumination and deadly-defiant piety.

Ah, but I was not alone; I knew, for the wind blew with the Spirit — mysterious, imperious, perhaps even deleterious, yet Source of Life — so yes, something was there to be with me. Something, or Someone, had always been but never seen. As an ancient sage of another age said, “hidden in keep of the deep! I do not know who begot this child nor if she is mild … but this, the same, came even before God!” Far older than the sod under my tortured feet plodding along the sanded heat that so nearly threatened my defeat. But would I bleat like some little lamb?

Oh, but damn the very thought! What a sham it would be, I boldly told myself. I’m not a lamb but man! Or to hell with it! Man to view; woman to few who know what I show from inside but try to hide? Does it matter? What fracking scatter of thought! I’m human, at least; not beast … but what? Even beast would not concede to dying without trying to live! The instinct for survival and revival is vital to the nature of every creature!

“Water … water … water from the daughter of Kheba… What could be wrong coming from one so strong?” the voice carried with ease on the gentle breeze. Enticing. Alluring. Seductive. Slicing through my senses. Impressively reassuring. Destructive. “Water … water … water you need to feed your strength lest at length you perish … and truly I cherish you.” Lies. Lies in angel guise. Snake eyes sharp to incise the unwise; to apprise the demise of desperate man; ready to baptize him in flood of his own thin blood. “Fear … you fear, my dear … fear you fear, not me, the one you do not see. Ah, but let me be your heart’s decree, and you will be free … free … free with me for whom you never sought, in liberty unbought, given freely with no thought … free to be what you really are … bright and shining star.” Not far from truth, I needed no proof from prophet, priest, or sayer of sooth; yet there was nothing to say but, too, I could not stay, though the hills still seemed so far away.

And So I Kept Walking…

.

.

Note: Both illustrations stock photos/pictures free for public usage.

Wake Up, Baby, It Was Just A . . .

Now awake, I told my hellmare, and Kheba was quite right in her take: It was more than dream mixed with cream of dæmons. No, twas phantastical vision and that, with frightening precision. Through time and space, could Bast now slither and lace herself? Had she gained such power? Certainly not from her ill-fated tower! But how now? Kheba, daughter of Dyēus, one of the Tri-Mater, actually looked shaken! I’d been crooked into the isolated presence of Bast, who’d cast me into her unholy royal chamber … right out of the arms of Kheba and her protection from harm! Tears streamed down her light brown skin, but what could smear such beauty? Still, as she wrapped herself around me, bound me fast to take away the last of my terror, my heart broke for her — for Kheba — like a stroke to the inner core of my spirit, and I bore her burden with her without fully knowing the burden (and almost surely showing my ignorance.)

Smooth diorite walls and halls, finely intermixed with divinely decorative lapis lazuli surrounded us, with profoundly long, large tables of shining marble along the sides, strong but radiantly soft, holding aloft plants and flowers of myriad kind with their silent chant of life and peace and joy — nothing here to annoy — and the bed worthy of royalty said clearly we were more than welcome. The home of Metuşelah and Lemek was our home, as well (what was so easy to tell.) Yonder was silver pitcher of fine wine, another of clear cool water from courtyard pool, and two bejeweled goblets; bell to ring to tell servants to come from their rooms to resume their task of fulfilling our needs, basking in the glory of guest goddess. Refreshing breeze blew silently through our room, but darkness loomed, darker than the darkness of night … the blight of evil darkness … live-evil. And Kheba marked the dark as Bast, who’d cast her presence into this time and space, but showing her face only to me without her mother to see.

Kheba stared out one of the paired arched openings at the palms calmly dancing, swaying to and fro, back and forth with no lack of encouragement from the gentle wind to slightly bend their bodies in sightly beauty as if in answer to some divine duty. “Nothing here will change,” she practically whispered. “We cannot rearrange; Tariqah is still dead … her head severed by sword from horde of wild Watchers.” Kheba’s voice trailed off, but not before she nailed me with eyes. “She cannot alter history, nor must we falter in our reaching your soul and teaching you, for you are clay and we the potter — we the Tri-Mater — under watchful eye of Dyēus who does spy everything, but…” She looked away and brooked not the terrible subject for which she could confect no answer. Did her father know, yet never bother to show, or had God become so slow? “She got to you and I never knew she could reach so far and breach the barrier being the carrier of such evil… Bast has grown stronger in ability, has greater mobility, and certainly not less in hostility.”

I shivered despite the warm air of night and pressed in closer to the might of Kheba … but why? She would keep me safe, but could she? This was the question now, and I had to bow to the ruthless truth that Bast had quite possibly become as powerful as Kheba somehow. And now what of Maftet and Ma’at from whom I’d sought refuge? And Sélená so bright; could she smite Bast and cast her back to dungeon gloom, her own living tomb? Ah … what had transpired to mire us in such dire straights?

Oh Dyēus on high, fly swiftly to our side and stay ever-so nigh!

.

.

Kheba: Pages From Forgotten Ages II

“These good people you see have know tragedy and misery,” Kheba continued walking me along the streets, talking about this strange and ancient place, explaining the mysterious story I saw written in every face. “Only two generations ago, the Watchers blew through this city and all her surrounding fields, and practically drowned the people in blood, ground their communal life into dust, and the sound that issued forth was one of the most terrific, horrific cries of fear and pleas for mercy ever heard before or since; the tears were blood, sweat, and bile piled ten miles high.”

Then we rounded another corner, this one bounded by exquisite marble, and spied the two tried and true warrior-heroes: Metuşelah and Lemek, both young and hearty, strong and ruddy, sturdy, rough and tough in demeanor, yet also obviously clever achievers and relievers of their people. And Metuşelah looked barely older than Lemek, which I told her in whisper tone, but the two men seemed to hear as if they were as near as she, and so kindly laughed as to wash away all my fear. Their physique was so sleek and shimmered with enchanting mystique, gazing upon them burned my cheeks and churned my heart; I lowered my face so not to further debase myself. Kheba wove her arm in mine and boldly marched me forward toward these two most handsome demigods.

“These are the two who led the battle against the Watchers, and bled their own blood to save so many knaves against the Fallen Ones, though they had brave friends in the fight, who would not bend their knees or bow their necks to such horrendous sight and blight of evil!” At this Metuşelah and Lemek did slightly bow forward toward Kheba in an authentic attitude of humble gratitude for her laudatory remarks, but themselves would not embark upon their own praises. “This is why grandfather named this man, his son, Metuşelah, meaning ‘he shall bring death,’ and in turn father named this man, his son, Lemek, meaning ‘lamentation;’ for surely did Dyēus foresee the awful lacrimation coming in the fractionation and devastation of this city and whole region, swept over by legions of dæmons, bothers of the Watchers who fathered the Nephilim, whore beasts who made feast on human flesh.”

Metuşelah stoutly stepped out from behind an unadorned woodwork table, and ably embraced me in cultural fashion of greeting, so powerful, upon meeting the welcome stranger, assuring me there was no danger here. And Lemek followed his father, hugging me nearly like brother … perhaps more, to adore. But even this left me nothing less to abhor in the images now running through my mind, like cunning devils to bind my thoughts to stark darkness, which I marked with disgust and determination, insisting on resisting within myself. The playful squeals of children in the background, abounding in cheer, found its way into my soul and helped drive away the drear thoughts brought along by Kheba, though she never sought to depress me nor repress light and joy.

“What is so complexly perplexing and frustrating, leaving us prostrating in prayer, is the continued presence of the Rephaim,” Lemek spoke in smooth baritone voice, choice words in perfect timing, though it would seem I knew nothing of these Rephaim. But with gleam in his eye, Lemek would tell me something, happily leading me inside cool home with small pool filled with clear cool water for refreshing oneself from beat of overwhelming heat; treasured sight for eyes to meet when one felt so torn and over-borne with exhaustion. Lemek bid me enter, as did he, Metuşelah and Kheba … and found it best to rest in quiet for awhile. Then goddess Kheba began to speak again, to pull together what so far I’d gained in knowledge…

.

Metuşelah — In the Hebrew scriptures (Old Testament), one of the ancient patriarchs descended from Adam and his so, too, Seth; also the grandfather of Noah in the biblical narrative; Metuşelah, or Methuselah, is said to have lived for 969 years; also importantly, the name Methuselah comes from two roots: muth, a root that means “death” ; and from shalach, which means “to bring,” or “to send forth.” Thus, the name Methuselah signifies, “his death shall bring.” (Cf. Jones, Alfred, Dictionary of Old Testament Proper Names; Pink, Arthur W., Gleanings in Genesis; Stedman, Ray C., The Beginnings, Word Books.)

Lemek — In the Hebrew scriptures (Old Testament), the son of Metuşelah and father of Noah; Lemek, or Lamech, is said to have lived 777 years; also importantly, the name Lamech, a root still evident today in our own English word, “lament” or “lamentation;” suggests “despairing.” (Koinonia House, Churck Missler, “Meanings Of The Names In Genesis 5,” as accessed October 4, 2015)

The Watchers — “According to the book of I Enoch the watchers were angels who fell from heaven and changed the order of their nature by lusting after and fornicating with women, thus corrupting the sons of men and prompting the great flood… The book of Jubilees affirms the identification of the heavenly watchers, and adds that the watchers violated the law of their ordinances when they lusted after women, their polygamous relationships with women produced monstrous offspring… The Qumran literature contains similar accounts of these watchers.” (G. W. Bromiley, ed. The International Standard Bible Encyclopedia, Volume Four: Q-Z, 1024)

Nephilim — The monstrous offspring of the Watchers; the giants of the land mentioned in the sixth chapter of Genesis in the Hebrew scriptures (Old Testament). Somehow possibly related to the Rephaim?

Rephaim — The Rephaim are known from biblical, Ugaritic, and Phoenician sources. In the Bible two uses of the term are discernible. The first is as Gentilic, referring to a people distinguished by their enormous stature… In its second use Rephaim designates “shades” or “spirits” and serves as a poetic synonym for metim. It thus refers to the inhabitants of the netherworld. This second meaning is also found in Phoenician sources. (Encyclopedia Judaica, “Rephaim,” as accessed October 4, 2015; cf. also Wikipedia, “Rephaite,” as accessed October 4, 2015)

Please Note: Characters, places, events (historical or legendary) have been recast in these poetic narratives. However, end-of-entry descriptions and definitions are valid, being derived from legitimate, trustworthy sources, and offered to the reader for her/his own interest and knowledge. First Photo, “Beware the Watchers,” by  Shadoweddancer; Second Photo, “Warrior,” by illuminatedmind; Third Photo found at www.thetruthnews.com