Part 5: Atys and Baghatun (Last)
Visions beyond poetic stanzas, verses penned
Past that witnessed or known, I, Iliona, Cosimia’s
Mother, inadvertently touched Golden Fleece,
Magical powers alighted within, all around me
Transformed to ancient pre-civilized realms.
Lo! Ancient One name Atys, walked barefoot
Amongst Cypriot peoples, healer, teacher, man
Of slight build, ate only to sustain his body,
Wore drape loin-covering, accepted no balms,
Charity, humble soul befriended by warring
General, Baghatun, discussions of divinity,
Enlightenment, fates, furies, presumably
Ending bloodshed, uniting disparate warring
Tribes, lasting island peace.
Bellicose deceiver, Baghatun distorted divine
Teachings, readings, causing death-carnage
By his swords and scrolls. Imprisoned, starved
For his protests against general, heavy oxen
Yolk fastened upon Atys’ back, perpetually
Shackled and enchained, wasting frame, bone-
Emaciated he became until his dying breaths.
No burial, but discarded body, thrown into
Ravine, rotten ram-skin, fly buzzing, piled
Upon his remains. Days to weeks, miracle
Occurred, transmigration of Atys’ soul from
Skeletal body to waiting fleece, golden light
Assumed, Ancient One resurrected, glittering
Fleece his mantle of divine light.
Generations passed, Baghatun and his armies
Dust reduced Atys preserved as barefoot
Walker, healer, teacher, his followers offering
Prayers, vigils for healing, lasting peace.
Lo! Again Time had worn on Atys, flesh and
Bone rent from earth-decades, weary Ancient
One whose lifeless body, with his golden
Fleece, were one the same, laid to rest in
Sacred crypt of Hecate’s mountain temple.
Alas! All this I envisioned moments faster
Than I, Iliona, could speak, realization Dolius
Was Atys reborn, his presence, knowledge
At temple-tomb, at his sandaled feet I
Bowed, tearful wept, prayed.
“Yes, I am guardian of my other self,” said
Dolius, “fleece I relinquished to Cosimia,
Who suffers weight of divinity.” And so, I,
Iliona, realized-understood, by his words,
Fingers upon my brow, yoke and mantle
Passed, mother of daughter, equally blessed
As accursed. Fleece bundle-bound upon my
Back, pilgrimage three of us made to City
Of Kharsos, another mountain temple, gods
Old and new, Atys-Dolius enduring clock-
Work of time. Thus, poem of Cosimia,
Hekate’s Temple, and Golden Fleece, has
Concluded in five parts, promise of new
Beginnings, daughter and fleece as one.
Thanks for reading this Cosimia poem.