Keeping the Fire: Words and Other Contagions

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Exerpt From: “Book of the Poet's Sermons, Leaf Five: Concerning the Poem Words,” by Oheghu the mad poet of Dashmoashi. Loose translation into the Eddinite by Caltius Bun Daeonstae: 

"To know a Poem Word, you must know all parts of it. When I say “Miwurhöthadji” you must read it Mi-Wur-Hö-Tha-Dji, then take each of those parts to make meaning from it. Miwur Höthadji (walking hip deep through water), Mi wurhö Thadji (I am/was burdened by feelings of sadness), and Mi wur höthadji (I am/was feeling freedom) are all readings that even a common poet sees. But there is nuance, well hidden in these simple readings. Can we not remove the Wur, and see that it is plainly Mi Höthadji (I [am/was] Höthadji). Can we ignore the Vakhe Höthadji of Uken-wall, in king Shehi's day, the same Vakhe who lost his men at the battle on the hard slope of Kjold'tar where the vicious Havkarran's fought them in the knee deep snows of that savage rock.

How could we not see that Miwurpo was the Djaught's mistress and that his son Thahödji was the same man who would one day kill the Minister to the South in an unsanctioned duel called a Wurmi in those days by the laws of the Djaught. How can we not see that when the poet Djasho says Miwurhöthadji, she is telling us that the Djaught who knew an un-winnable battle was damned to that battle because of his mistress, that her influence and the son he fathered with her that campaign would lead to the downfall of the whole house. How can we not see that Miwurhöthadji tells us not just the feeling of being powerless and unable to make progress but also hides the secrets of future events? It is so obvious when we look as poets.

When you learn the meaning of a Poem word, you will realize that a poet is not a painter with their colors, but a Djaught with his wives. Each word must be tended to carefully, each must have their needs addressed, you must give each quarters and freedoms for their pursuits. That way, when you make love to each, you will draw strength and passion from each and the harmony between them. There is great pleasure to be derived from taking a word. There is greater joy to be had from making love to it."


Exerpt From: The Poets of Fiedjan and the Greater Westin Interior as given by Caltius Bun Daemonstae, and concerning Old and Recent works of Scholars of Such Things: 



"Scholars are, as a matter or course, bound to disagree on the story of the Mad Poet of Dashmoashi called variosly Heghu, Goheghu, or Oheghu depending on which source one uses. Oheghu (I choose to follow the scholarship of Meeda's Luminaries here) produced several clever and well written poems around the time of the Ash Empire, when Westa Proper was in the decline. Most of his works were later burned, but those that remain are remarkably well written and consist of biting satire and clever punning. It is said that Oheghu became obsessed with the Khaobishar and the meaning of the old runes it was written in. This obsession began to border on madness, and his later poems became increasingly erratic or uncouth. He eventually lost his honored post in Dja-Ivenen and was forced to return to his home city of Dashmoashi or “fire point” so called for the constant bonfires of the salt makers there, a difficult and dangerous duty given over largely to the Proper's “Impure” caste. Some artists followed Oheghu there and were said to cavort in certain uncouth or violent rites that Westin historians chose not to record in detail. Oheghu developed a gift for prophesy that grew with his madness.

Stories begin to diverge from truth here, but it is held that one day, Oheghu, overcome by madness went down to the salt fires and burned his hands and eyes. He said it was so that he would not have to see the poems anymore and moreover, so he would not have to write them. It did not help. His injuries grew worse and he was confined to bed. It is said that everything he spoke, be it a request for water or begging for the help of a Curator, came out of his mouth in the form of a Poem. He lept from a sea cliff some months later.

As I previously stated, Oheghu's works were largely burned. The Curate declared them impure in the forth year of King Sokhe's reign, about a generation after Oheghu's death. Curator's hold that a spirit “rode” Oheghu, that it saw through his eyes, wrote through his hands, and even twisting the thoughts within his mind. This would be bad enough, but a rash of suicides, murders, and ill acts followed his poetry ever after prompting the Curate's actions. From this we can see something of the power of poetry in the mind of the citizen of Fiedjan. As words can be power, so too can they be a vessel for corruption. A certain stanza might seal away a demon as surely as a closed box. As Oheghu's story teaches us, the eyes can be a portal for possession, just as the mouth can allow poison into the body."

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