a spider scurries
across the sand, without
dislodging a grain
Spider in the Sand [Haiku]
1
Today, I read about an anthropologist who was living among an isolated tribe, [as anthropologists tend to do] a tribe who believed that twins weren't really people, and that twin babies should be left to die of neglect. This anthropologist, like all good anthropologists, was trained to respect indigenous beliefs and to not go mucking around and breaking the "Prime Directive" [well, that term is from Star Trek, but good anthropologists have similar directives -- or, at least, proclivities -- i.e. to be objective, and - to the degree one can't be - to recognize one's biases and try to note the role they might play.] This anthropologist was doing a grand job of being an anthropologist, until a woman in the tribe had twins...
My brain is an angry sac of neurons: hot wired / electrified. Sizzling synapses ready to snap and spew seedy scenes upon this world. But no one hears a scream in the dark void of a barren mind: though the scream radiates outward as a painful wave of unknown origin & purpose, a tremor in the fabric of us
Do you feel unease, walking in tall grass? Visceral tension? A primal impression from a time when a wounded beast [on its belly, & with labored breath] retained enough energy for one last lurch to impale its hunter? A raspy groan or bloody burble, and the jerky wave of the grass might be all the warning one got before The End.