Could there be more?

Clean wagon, presents, clean boots, a gentle heart... could there be more? What am I missin this time? So much easier to plan out the making of an ax blade or a length of chain. It's even easier to kill a man of equal skill as mine than it is to figure out a woman and what's behind her behavior. Guess I'm getting pretty suspicious as I grow older. Could be about time. The deceptions of others have left me cold inside where I'd rather remain warm. There was a time when those in the harigga could be counted on to back me up as I backed them up. To talk to me as I am open to talk to others. Things changed as I grew up and after my father died, just forget it. How will I explain to Kaeli about how no woman will pull my hair for as long as the memory of Catranna treating me like one of her many kajiri lingers in my mind? I don't even know how it got to be like that. Guess I have been too easy going to be respected by people have had no family member fall to my quiva, ax or bow.

Life Moves On

Well, tonight I learned that a woman I would have liked to be at my side is now the woman of another. That's what happens when the siren sings her sweetest tunes. But I don't think I would trade the music of the forge for another woman. The hammer's my instrument, the anvil my mate. First Son and ... the other... are all the children I need to carry on my seed. The children of my soul are the creation of my forge anyway. Gone is Netty...there is only Leonette now. I'll lose myself in the curves of chain and cutting edges that I can see coming.

To Feel or To Think

I know that there be those among Tribe who dun get me, dun understand me. Could be I'm just too Old Plains. What moves me, dun affect them. Grass, as far as the eye can detect, forming a waving sea...it calls me to the March. The sound of metal ringing against da anvil, that be my siren's song. The making of things needed and necessary, yet beautiful in subtle ways. Most don't even know this side of me. Skies, most these days don't know me! Gone are the friends of my youth, except for a very few. Gone are my mentors and teachers. Gone is my father and my mother has found her peace in a new life, along with my sister. When I'm asked what I think, I usually gotta tell what I'm feeling. When asked what I feel, I find myself answering, "Well, I think..." Good thing none but me see this rambling tangle of disjointed musings.