Teeth of the Tiger

The first frost on the kitchen window’s glass always amazed her. “A work of art—the shapes are so delicate, and so simply made, just water and cold. No color to distract the eye. Soon all will be covered in deep snow and my world will be in black and white for months.”

There was a river nearby. And a faux-semblant of a beach where granite colored rocks had anchored themselves in clay and sand.  Clay so dense that one could make a swan just by shaping a handful from the beach, right from under the rocks. Or perhaps a vase in await of spring flowers.

There were no tigers around the river. Just men who smiled but she did not trust. Yet their teeth were white and some even pulled their long hair into pony tails. Men who came out of the deep woods to tell stories about short creatures with pointed hats. About tigers that did not exist. But mostly about the loneliness of the deep woods.

The first frost turned to the long winter and all became black and while. Like the old pictures hanging atop the stairs.  The wooden frame was now the kitchen window and the picture changed with the winds. Soon the river would freeze and the short creatures would come out of the woods to walk upon the ice. She will be able to walk on the icy river and feed black swans.

The river was already cold and iced upon its surface but it ran gently under what the eye saw. That river was like her, like the men wearing pony tails and like the tigers no one had really seen. It was a river even if, at times, it froze upon the surface.  In a few months, the short creatures would go back to the woods and wild flower would blossom upon the shores of that river. All will be color and spring scents.

And yet, little boys and blond girls will be told the story of the tigers. A story so mysterious that one can shape a tiger from the clay near the river.  Just like they learned to shape a vase or a swan.

And little boys and blue-eyed girls will almost see the teeth of that tiger as shiny ivory in that clay. But no one would dare to tell them that when one sees the teeth of a tiger, one should not think the tiger is smiling at them.

That is why short creatures cannot walk on the water and men wearing pony tails prefer the loneliness of deep woods.

January 12, 2014

©Vahé Kazandjian, 2014