Intercession

I hear the voices rising and falling;
back and forth they go although I did
not understand the language, a
Slavic dialect perhaps. Gentleness
alternated with accusation, rising and
falling, back and forth.

Waving my arms back and forth through
the linguistic fog, I understand it is a kind
of trial, although accuser and defender
share a sameness of form and sameness of
voice, as if they were brothers born
closely together.

With my hand, I grasp a stone, an arrowhead
broken and discarded long ago, and scrape my
arms back and forth, letting the blood flow
freely. Touching the blood to my lips, I find it
burns hot and acidic. The voices stop; perhaps
the judge has called an adjournment.