image borrowed from bing
“All of us are God’s creatures, but some of us
are more creature than others.”--Anonymous
Its legend crawled down from the Laurention Mountains,
and its folklore materialized in Cajun Bayou speak,
as twenty deep descendants of Acacia,
those French-Canadian peoples from the Maritimes
who fled south following the French & Indian Wars,
way south, all the way to Southern Louisiana,
where some traditionalist parents still frighten their
children with wild tales about the Boogie-Wolf,
the Loup-Garou, the wolfman of mythos.
It was written that it would hunt down and slay
misbehaving offspring, and errant Catholics
who refused to follow Church edicts & mandates;
and that the Bitten ones, those afflicted, were always
living amongst them, that they remained under
the Rougarou spell for seven years, and each
flare up, or bloody incident, lasted 101 days.
During daylight the shape-shifters returned to
human form, completely oblivious to their
dark night persona. When its evil conscription
lapsed, it would transfer the lupine duties
through its last bite to some other person.
In the deepest swamps of Louisiana where
folks live far from urban centers, speaking
only Cajun, killing alligators and catching fish
for their meager subsistence, they know for a fact
that actual Rougarou haunt the hours after midnight,
and its death-rot stench and ungodly howls keep
them barricaded tightly within
their spindly heron-legged cabins,
keeping their hounds inside with them,
knowing that in the morning they would find
their chained up gator yard-dogs torn to pieces.
For them legends have actual teeth.
Posted over on dVerse Poets-Open Link Night
Would you like to hear the author read this poem to you?