Ode to Men #2

In the silence of the night, the hills spake to me as thus:

“Lorot Son of the Hills, we have witnessed the revolt of man against the message you have spoken to him. We have been troubled by the difficulty of his heart and intolerance in hearing messengers sent to him. Why man has almost killed you chasing you down the hills, across valleys and plains, causes us much sadness. Why man has thrown dust to your eyes and brandish weapons to your countenance embarrasses us. Why man remains unapologetic and rebellious as ever astounds us.

“But man has a small wit. Doesn’t he know that even before he came to being, the hills firmly rested on thick buttress? Doesn’t he know that when boulders revolt from the hills, they peel off through bad weather and become soil? Doesn’t he know that the hills are held together by mutual co-existence and that if one particle or rock opposes the other they are all washed away in isolation? Doesn’t he know that the caps in the hills and the peaks raise their arms in supplication, in obedience to nature? Doesn’t he know that if a bird chirps or a monkey chatters or a snake hisses, the hills listen to such a message? Doesn’t he know, too, that when a powerful gale of wind blows across the hills, the hills plead with the winds to be calm and beseech him for reconciliation? Doesn’t man know that even the hills don’t revolt messages sent to them?

“Any way, man is as stubborn as ever. He doesn’t listen to us anymore. He has come to despise what we stand for. Man has the temerity to say, “Hills, pray, when did unmoving boulders have messages? What a personification?” Go and tell man that the hills are not unmoving, they are not without emotions, they can move. Go and tell him that when a boulder leaves us and meets death at the foothills, we cry for such loss. When ferns and fungi and shrubs make us stronger we are happy and we laugh in our echoes which ricochet from one hill to another. When we are angered, we cry but man is confused when our tears are mixed in waterfalls. Go and tell man that we can feel pain, anger, frustration. We know the pain of loss of a loved one for we too have lost loved ones. We know tiredness for we also carry the sorrow of our weaker boulders and felled trees. Go and tell man that we also have hands for we feed all around us in the hills. We know what a chilling weather is but it is only that we don’t cover our peaks with umbrellas.

“Go and tell men that you have no more messages for them. Tell them that the hills have gone into forty days of mourning. In these forty days, winds will blow in the hills, echoes will be heard, boulders will peel off and the waterfalls will rage more than ever.  The seven hills will cry for men. During this period, ferns, fungi and the shrubs will dry up. Monkeys will wail on top of the hills. Hyraxes will come out from their caves and curse man. The hills will be quiet on the fortieth day. Not even an echo will be heard.

“Go and tell man that we have no option but to do this. Never in the history of Hillodom have we done this. The last time we did it was when our small brother, a hill actually, wanted to commit suicide (which he did). He had stood on his bigger brother and lunged forward to meet his instant death. We still mourn him. In two small jumps, he leaped forward and dived. He crushed into a thousand pieces. Hyraxes, monkeys, ferns, fungi, shrubs, small little insects and ecosystem died with him. We had never seen such a thing. Such a loss! 

“Our small brother had died. We cried for twenty days. For another ten days, we, the hills, became quiet. It was a hard moment. Go and tell man that he reminds us of such misfortune and our stomachs are churning with pain. Go and tell him that if we the hills unite in grief against him misfortune will befall him.  If we shed off all the ferns, fungi and shrubs and wail against man, he will never know peace. Go and warn man for we will only do this when all else have failed. We wish man well. Go and tell him that he has time to make peace with us.”