Читать книгу Feathered Serpent, Dark Heart of Sky - David Bowles - Страница 9

Convocation

Look upon our beloved Mexico. The ancient singers gave her such lovely names—

Navel of the Moon.

Foundation of Heaven.

Sea-Ringed World.

From jungle-thick peninsula and isthmus to misty highlands and hardy deserts, Mexico has cradled dozens of nations through the millennia, all worshipping the divine around them, shaping names and tales that echo one another while remaining distinct.

If you listen close, you can hear the voices of our ancestors, whispering down the long years in a hundred different tongues, urging us never to forget where we came from, how Mexico came to be, the price they paid to make us who we are.

Can you hear that ancient chorus, chanting to the rhythm of the wooden drum, accompanied by the throaty shrill of the conch? That is the flower song, the holy hymn. Listen closely, sisters and brothers: catch snatches of the melody. Let us sing the old thoughts with new words.

Can you see the looms of our grandmothers, shuttling out colors, the weft and woof of so many tribes? They unfurl through the ages, frayed or unraveled by time and conquest like well-worn, rainbowed rebozos. Take up the threads, each of you, and weave with me the multi-hued fabric of our history, from the obsidian darkness of the void to the flash of foreign steel upon these shores.

We start at the beginning.