The Buffalo Woman Story

The buffalo woman
The buffalo woman had a child. I dare say that his voice was never heard, his walk was unsteady, lame, halting.
He preferred crawling: he would reach his mother's lap covered in mud. She would then lick his cheeks and smear the mud across his face with her palm. He became clean! She was sad, aloof, pensive, but she never helped the boy to stand up or repeated a sound more than once. She merely took the boy wherever she went. She did not carry him on her back, even though that would have been her preferable manner. Instead, she carried him on her shoulders, the boy will hold on to her forehead and she would run.
When the buffalo woman hunted, the boy would grab her forehead with such tenacity that time printed her son's fingertips on her forehead. His neck would become disjointed. The boy would hold up his head between his hands to ease the pain. The meat that they would flavour was so delicious that the boy would salivate profusely before it was ready to eat.
The buffalo woman could not see that the child had grown up. When he climbed onto her; she felt her shoulders sink to her waist. Her ankles were bony, but her muscles were as powerful as a bodybuilder of our time. Her teeth started to fall out. She would hold them forming a cup with her hands, feeling their weight, she would bury them near the spot where the Buffalo woman slept. At night time, when she couldn't sleep because of her age, thirst, or pain, she would unbury them convinced they had grown heavier, sharper, absent of time.
The boy child was now a man, but she did not notice it, she looked at him intently one morning before he jumped on her shoulders. She pushed him back as if she could not see what it was in front of her. He could smell her readiness, taste her sweat as she stood.  Her excitement rendered a sense of confinement you may have experienced in your lives. He pulled her hair and climbed up in one single hop, her bones cracked, and she stood firm, ready, solid.
Her steps were silent, she moved around the vegetation as if it was invisible to her. The buffalo woman would not see but the smell, the distance, the crowds of living creatures. Her feet were paws sensing water wells, fish seeping, roots leaking, the earth temperature, and her muscles at the point of breakage. Then, she became light, round, inanimate, and then she would run. The child/boy/man was struggling to swallow, his neck became loose, his head slammed his chest like a sledgehammer opening his chest, cracking his rib cage and he would cry in agony, and the buffalo woman could not feel anything but her prey and her hunger. She pounced, and the hunt concluded. The boy/man ate until full, drank blood, and rested in the shade. The buffalo woman did not come to clean or nurture him. She rested alone. Her legs were shaking, her rapid pulse rocked her to sleep, her eyes remained open for a few minutes, her nose bled, the tiny vessels of her nostrils could not bear the sting.
They returned to the spot where the Buffallo woman buried her teeth, and the boy/man was satisfied, he felt whole, accomplished, serene, and wanted her warmth. He approached her indirectly, zigzagged like an animal accustomed to crawling to redeem himself, allowing flies to rest near him. She did not let him close. He went hungry, no morsel of hers was to be shared, no drop of water was available. She showed him the end of her world and prompted him with a branch of a tree to move away. He slept for days covered by leaves and dirt, and at noon, he sobbed and licked his tears, his dirt. The light spares him at times, but he stood and ran, his tongue hung about his mouth as he could not run and breathe, his eyes were fixated, his temperature was low, he felt his pulse in his stomach then, he ran surpassing his prey. He did not understand hunting.