75 Cave of the Black Dog Part I

Cave of the Black Dog

If a man shall meet the Black Dog once, it shall be for joy;

And if twice, it shall be for sorrow; and the third time, he shall die.

-          S. E. Schlosser, “Black Dog of Hanging Hills”

PART I

Some stories begin

Silently, and others end

The same; this tale begins

With the Crack of sea-surge

Blasting against the falling

Mast in a frenzied foam;

This tale begins

With the Crack of blade-tipped

Whip against horse hide;

This tale begins with the Crack

Of worn wood suddenly giving

Way to the weight borne for

Too many years;

Crack! Says the seaside village,

Bent and broke in the storm fury.

Crack! Says the uncertain pier,

Awash with the freshness of its dead

Young men;

Crack! The stone as it witnesses the

Floating carnage among the shoals.

And I, orphaned by the sudden

Shock of the sea god no longer

Call this village home.

To the mountains I walk,

Called by the ancient stone;

Through the rock split I climb,

Into the cool underworld

Whose waters drip from ashen stone;

Into the place where the shadow-men

Fill their fired-mud casks with

The life-water;

I descend to deeper pools, carving

My way beneath the first and second rock-shelves ,

Where the long breaths of the ice-pack

May be drawn into spirit, and

Where my journey turns.