The group exercise at the June meeting was based on a Stone Age flint scraper, a sort of Pre-Historic Swiss Army Knife, but more durable. The group were invited to handle it, and imagine themselves to be the original owner, possibly a young woman, earning her place in the family by contributing her skills to the common good. The tool maker has used the natural shape of the flint and chipped flakes of flint away to make a sharp cutting edge.
Stone Girl (Tom Ireland)
Out of nothing, darkness, darkness,
Jangle of sounds miss-understood, words
That are not words, sights unseen and undecoded,
Eternal strangeness of all things unknown.
Persons so unlike, unseeing, deaf to silence,
And into that unaware oddity I
Emerge, reborn, too many winters and no summers,
Into that angularity, Hades of
Straight lines, sharp sounds, cackling muttered voices
Meaningless, all meaning less than nothing.
And yet, observe, conceal, watch, hesitate, be still.
These too are human, elders of some clan,
Tribe unknown, speaking more words than they listen to.
And yet they pause to hear one voice,
Words spoken softly, almost sung, a tuneless chant
With no drum to guide. No one keeps watch, no fire
Is on the hearth. Sunlight steals silent into the cave,
A group of elders pass my knife between them,
Spilling no blood, smiling if it nestles
Comfortable in their hand.
The blade returns to one who brought it here.
Does he know to bury it deep in earth tonight?
So it may, bloodless, sleep, and I return to the silent dark?
Flint may strike light and see to kill.