A brand new axe to cut a branch
and coal-black hands to dig a trench
a measure full of winnowed rice, no chaff
palm oil and wine enough
and dog blood
The Spirit
he breathes just like we do
but he never appears in view
The Spirit
he fills up all the room
can impregnate a virgin womb
The Spirit
he dominates the place
can spread luck and can bring disgrace
We buried axe and all the rest
put up the branch, had dog with guests
we men of mud stand still in a circle, scared
the spirit sits down there
feet in mud
The Spirit
he guarantees the law
he’s the one who can speak to God
The Spirit
he knows things in your head
can chastise you with sudden death
The Spirit
his wrath sows grief and woe
you can’t say that you did not know
The Spirit
his lash has whipped us numb
yet it feels like there’s more to come