The Land of Painted Caves - Jean M. Auel [337]
“I think the most important question is the one we have all been avoiding,” the First interjected. “The Mother’s Song is perhaps the oldest of the Elder Legends. Different Caves, different traditions often have minor variations, but the meaning is always the same. Would you recite it for us, Ayla? Not the whole song, just the last part of it.”
Ayla nodded, closed her eyes, thought about where to begin.
With a thunderous roar Her stones split asunder,
And from the great cave that opened deep under,
She birthed once again from Her cavernous heart,
Bringing forth all the creatures of Earth from the start.
From the Mother forelorn, more children were born.
Each child was different, some were large and some small,
Some could walk and some fly, some could swim and some crawl.
But each form was perfect, each spirit complete,
Each one was a model whose shape could repeat.
The Mother was willing. The green earth was filling.
All the birds and the fish and the animals born,
Would not leave the Mother, this time, to mourn.
Each kind would live near the place of its birth,
And share the expanse of the Great Mother Earth.
Close to Her they would stay. They could not run away.
Ayla had started out rather tentatively, but as she got into it, her voice gained more power; her delivery became more sure.
They all were her children, they filled her with pride
But they used up the life force she carried inside.
She had enough left for a last innovation,
A child who’d remember Who made the creation.
A child who’d respect. And learn to protect.
First Woman was born full grown and alive,
And given the Gifts she would need to survive.
Life was the First Gift, and like Mother Earth,
She woke to herself knowing life had great worth.
First Woman defined. The first of her kind.
Next was the Gift of Perception, of learning,
The desire to know, the Gift of Discerning,
First Woman was given the knowledge within,
That would help her to live, then impart to her kin.
First Woman would know. How to learn, how to grow.
Her life force near gone, The Mother was spent,
To pass on Life’s Spirit had been Her intent.
She caused all of Her children to create life anew,
And Woman was blessed to bring forth life, too.
But Woman was lonely. She was the only.
The Mother remembered Her own loneliness,
The love of Her friend and his hovering caress.
With the last spark remaining, Her labor began,
To share life with Woman, She created First Man.
Again She was giving. One more was living.
Ayla spoke the language so fluently, most people hardly noticed her accent anymore. They were used to the way she said certain words and sounds. It seemed normal. But as she repeated the familiar verses, her speech peculiarity seemed to add an exotic quality, a touch of mystery, that somehow made it seem that the verses came from some other place, perhaps some other-worldly place.
To Woman and Man the Mother gave birth,
And then for their home, She gave them the Earth,
The water, the land, and all Her creation.
To use them with care was their obligation.
It was their home to use, But never abuse.
For the Children of Earth the Mother provided,
The Gifts to survive, and then She decided,
To give them the Gift of Pleasure and caring,
That honors the Mother with the joy of their sharing.
The Gifts are well earned, When honor’s returned.
The Mother was pleased with the pair She created,
She taught them to love and to care when they mated.
She made them desire to join with each other,
The Gift of their Pleasures came from the Mother.
Before She was through, Her children loved too.
This was the place where the song usually ended, and Ayla hesitated a moment before she continued. Then taking a breath, she recited the verse that had filled her head with its booming metered resonance deep in the cave.
Her last Gift, the Knowledge that man has his part.
His need must be spent before new life can start.
It honors the Mother when the couple is paired,
Because woman conceives when Pleasures are shared.
Earth