This tale tells of a nymph disowned
for her insight and pleasured truth,
imposed on those who could not face themselves,
and so this beauty of naive resound,
was burned alive as a dissident,
a danger to their village life,
a voice to bring their delusions down.
So instead of facing reality,
the village took her life
to protect their fears and narrow beliefs,
and in doing so could not attest the warnings given
of drought and famine,
instead believing their righteousness
over the arrogance of a young nymph.
Yet age had not afforded wisdom,
just a belief in the old ways in a new time,
and youth could not utter truth
to those of weathered ilk,
instead they were unprepared
and the drought dried their rivers and crops failed,
leaving the village in a sad fated demise.
No rain or even cloud graced their skies,
as in summer heat they roasted
and water stores depleted, so
the village rose up and demanded the elders
solve this dire circumstance,
for they were of sagacious minds,
filled with experience and knowledge.
But the elders in regret
for not listening to the nymph,
had no solution at all,
and preparation time had long past,
larger stores never considered,
as now the river beds were dry,
and not one drop remained.
In this quandary the village gathered in protest,
when a young maiden no more than thirteen,
stood forward and spoke meekly to the people;
water does not flow atop the parched ground,
but beneath a water table to feed our thirst,
dig beneath the river bed and see, she said.
The elders had never heard such a thing
and scoffed, as before, weak words from a child,
but the village chief was more circumspect,
having failed himself before, rashly condemning the only soul
who could have averted disaster,
so he rose from his seat and looked to the village,
‘Perhaps we are wrong,’ he said.
‘Perhaps youth has a better belief,
and we too prideful to see,’
so the men gathered picks and shovels
and began to dig in the center of the river bed,
and no more than ten feet down
rocks parted to reveal a rushing stream,
crystal clear water in abundance.
The child was praised and revered,
a mere child with insight beyond here years,
and from that day on, all villagers would be heard,
nothing dispelled out of hand,
and the village prospered,
each soul a voice of perspective
and leaders open to solutions, not their prideful ways.
Tony DeLorger © 2018
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