The falcon’s wings beat fast like thumps of primal sacraments.
Battle continues endlessly in the cosmos, ever nearing total destruction.
While the ancient masters of the mountains watch and wait,
the hummingbird bravely enters the fight and smites us all.

CUITLAHUAC
            It’s said Huitzilopochtli’s temple burns.

PRIEST OF TLALOC
            It does so, to the sinking of my gut.
            Great rains of sparks dripped on his chapel’s thatch,
            Which torched our war god’s crematory pyre,
            And lit the flabbergasted rabble’s face,
            Their eyes and open mouths like perfect ‘O’s.
            Afar, the old, old fire god, aloof,
            And chortling at his native element,
            Was in his shrine extinguished nonetheless
            When shards of lightning from a cloudless sky
            Forked up his walls. It seems the gods contend,
            And waste their earthly halls as game-board chips.

CUITLAHUAC
            Have you beheld the floods?

PRIEST OF TLALOC                               No. Floods? The floods?

CUITLAHUAC
            The boundless lake that rounds our rafty town
            Shrugged off her boiling banks, uncorked her wrath,
            And, in a breaker to out-swell the sea,
            Has drowned our residential waterfront.
            House after house bobs in a flotsam fleet-
            A drear, domestic archipelago.

PRIEST OF TLALOC
            What does the emperor your brother say
            Of these most inauspicious auguries?

CUITLAHUAC
            It’s in the bag and in the box with him.
            He closets up his fear in *******-up shrugs.
            And yet I can not blame his fickleness.
            If judgment’s based on past experience,
            How to interpret, then, such spectacles,
            When what is weighed has never once before
            Been seen or rumored in the known-of world?

PRIEST OF TLALOC
            Lord Tlacaelel claims that Hungry Prince
            Tonight held council with the emperor,
            To state his gloss on these phenomena.

CUITLAHUAC
            He stands on shaky ground. How did he fare?

PRIEST OF TLALOC
            Like to a hummingbird trapped in a hive.
            Motecuhzoma’s bellows rattled rafters.
            He challenged him at dawn to the arena.
            The sacred ball-game shall resolve their feud.

CUITLAHUAC
            The stakes?

PRIEST OF TLALOC        Unknown, but speculated high.

CUITLAHUAC
            We’ll meet then in the morning at the court.

PRIEST OF TLALOC
            Let’s get inside, lest Tlaloc should suspect
            We dare the tempest-****** to his worst.                    *They exit.

TLACAELEL
            Great, gold-eyed Eagle, greet our messenger,
            We offer his most precious fluid, Lord.
            Bright Hummingbird, accept Thy rubied fruit.
            In tawny plumes, Thou chaperonest the day.
            [To worshipers] We are collaborators with the gods,
            Performing our transcendent duty here.
            For by this action lie the only means
            To eternalize the circuits of the sun:
            An aloe balm to all the sufferings
            Of his interminable pilgrimage.

WORSHIPERS       Blue Prince, may Thou incline Thy heart, that by Thy grace for yet a while may we see in dreams.

TLACAELEL
            For we are God’s own chosen tribe, elect,
            As kernels gleaned and winnowed from the chaff,
            To side in cosmic struggle with the sun,
            To side with goodness, vowed to ascertain
            Its triumph over evil’s looming storm,
            And to bestow to all humanity
            The heavenwide profits of the victory
            Of the resilient forces of the light
            Over the gathering powers of the night.
            Let us pray.                                                          Exit.

WORSHIPERS       Huitzilopochtli, perform Thy office. Do Thy work. May I not reject Thee. May I not falter before Thee. May Thy heart desire whatsoever Thou mayest desire. This is all.
                                                                                   *Trumpets, drum. All exit.

TLACAELEL
            Two hundred years have we known only strife,
            Kept innocent of peace, to fortify
            Huitzilopochtli, our grand god of conquest,
            Who hoists aloft our death-denying sun
            And handsomely escorts him through the east.
            Such toil demands the selfless sustenance
            Of that most precious sacrifice, our hearts;
            Small, hot, red gems- we grant them gratefully.
            Our god need not stand waiting for affronts
            Or hissing disrespect to rattle arms.
            No, rather let us seek convenient markets
            Where our Blue Prince of war, when whimsy strikes,
            Might carve downed captives to refresh his plate
            And tie his bib with dead men’s winding-sheets,
            As if he strolled through cheap tortilla stalls,
            And clutched our legions for his currency.
            To this emporium shall we caravan,
            Procuring crocks of blood and priceless hearts
            By bartering to swap our solvent lives.
            Oh, let it be Tlaxcala, gentlemen!
            For if we pitch this depot to the north,
            The taxing hike to those unconquered tribes
            Should prove an inconvenience to our troops.
            Besides, the tough and stringy flesh of those
            Bare-bottomed grunts, rock-knocking savages,
            Must strike our god as stale as sandal-leather.
            Then let Tlaxcalans be his board of fare:
            Moist cutlets, fresh and steaming from the range,
            Shall furnish forth his sanguinary feasts.
            We must not waste these others totally,
            But make a handy pantry of this foe,
            For war- alone undying- must endure.

CUITLAHUAC
            Bravo. I’ll side with you to storehouse them,
            So that we hamstring their free trafficking,
            And thus declaw our sole belligerent.

TLACAELEL
            I’m pleased your verdicts are adaptable.

HUNGRY PRINCE
            Either to weaken or to waste this threat,
            You’ll have my armies at your hand.

TLACAELEL                                                   That's nice.

MOTECUHZOMA
            Now, Hungry Prince, let’s brace for weighty words. . .

MOTECUHZOMA
            It is their chief that most perplexes me.
            Send him my greeting, and convey to him
            The gifts I have equipped for your encounter:
            A turquoise serpent mask, a pearl-decked shield
            With feathered fringe as gossamer as foam,
            I’ll send the rain god’s legendary headdress
            Of quetzal feathers, green as sprouting grass,
            Fine, snail-shell collars, dainty golden bells,
            A saffron helmet chased with dazzling stars,
            Sandals obsidian-black- What riches more,
            I have not breath in this old chest to list.

TEUHTLILLI
            By your good will, I might unfold for him
            The vestments which are worn by several gods:
            Tezcatlipoca’s mirror, and Tlaloc’s jades,
            Huitzilopochtli’s gilded helm, and such.
            If he reach straight for the regalia
            Of Quetzalcoatl- Well, who need say more?

MOTECUHZOMA
            A thoughtful move. And, if not gods themselves,
            They yet may be our wandering ancestors.
            See if their speaker is the picture of
            A homeward-bound, long-absent patriarch.
            Especially take note if he admits,
            Or claims, he is your rightful king. What more?

TEUHTLILLI
            Should I purvey a spread of birds and game,
            And mark how fluently he dines or not?
            If he is from our far-flung lineage,
            He ought to be familiar with our fare.

MOTECUHZOMA
            Do so. But if, by chance, he shuns your board,
            And does not hanker for such bill of fare,
            But rumbles with a yen for human flesh,
            Why, then allow yourself to be consumed.
            I will ensure the welfare of your wife,
            And guide your children.

TEUHTLILLI                                 As you wish, my lord.           *Exit.

Aztec high priests spilled the blood of peasants but never their own;
Sun god appeasement to maintain their elevated status & throne.

The sacrificial alter stone offered Huitzilopochtli human blood & hearts;
A barbaric but quick death, lung disease is slow - fact confirmed on WHO health charts.  

Templo Mayor was the epicentre of these macabre rituals;
Now its our high street, work place, schools and residential.

Climate change is today's human sacrifice;
Modern day Shaman's killing thousands daily - never thinking twice.

Our species require 20,000 daily breaths to remain alive;
We are “reliably" informed don't look up, don't worry - you will survive.

Corporate owners and their families don't inhale this toxic air;
They live far away from the magenta coloured danger zones - so why care.

The path to honest change is concealed with land mines, legal barriers & corruption;
"Happy talk” from politician’s proclaiming to protect us - thus ensuring delays & obstruction.

We are destroying our planet don't be persuaded otherwise or self deny;
Pollution is killing the most vulnerable - urgent action required or millions more will die.

the verandas come to us and the sweetest smell cannot be dispelled from the california orchards blooming,
each season has them blinking food
into existence
and the momentary insects, birds and grown children pick the ripened seeds to nurture their bodies during one rotation of the earth around Huitzilopochtli