Voodoo Moon

The mist attempts to hide the moon that casts its sickly gaze
Across the silent sunken marsh, which smelled of death for days.
On his skiff in darkest night fall the tears of Jean Dupree
Who sets himself against the swamp to find his belle, Rosalee…

Jean unmoored his skiff while weeping,
Pushing his craft away from the land
And thought of his drunken father,
Now dead by Jean's own angry hand.
He wipes the tears away from his eyes,
Submerging the bloody push-pole,
Which shatters the pane of dark water,
Propelling him toward his goal.

His father had sold away his bride
Before Jean had drawn his first breath,
Dealing with the swamp fiend Loup-Garou
Who bartered only in pain and death.
To kill his lady love’s suitor
In youth he'd agreed to the price,
Trading away his daughter's first born,
And his own eldest son's first wife.

Jean's sister was put in a madhouse,
But she'd told him once of her dreams;
Of the shadow thing that came one night
To open her up at the seams.
It stripped her womb then sewed her shut
And cackled while the young girl wept,
As it did when it stole Jean's wife
From his home while the young Cajun slept.

So he sought the heart of the bayou
And the grave of Marie Laveau,
The sacred Voodoo Queen of the Isles,
Who knew things man was not meant to know.
He hoped beyond hope she would hear him,
And not turn a deaf ear to his plea.
As he pierced the hateful black water,
Which creased in the form of a v...

The mists attempt to hide the moon that casts its wicked eye,
Upon the silent sunken marsh where the bones of a Voodoo Queen lie.
On his skiff this very night fall the tears of Jean Dupree,
Who sets himself against the swamp to find his belle Rosalee...

He guided the skiff for hours on end
Before finding the Voodoo Queen's grave,
Set deep within the marsh's dark folds
In a graveyard that held only slaves.
The tombstones there were broken and old,
And hidden by overgrown grass.
But on one stood five melted candles,
The sign of a recent black mass.

The rite was known to summon her soul,
By all who called the bayou their home.
A secret thing, whispered by children,
That fades at once if ever they roam.
Jean had lived his whole life in the swamps,
And remembered the conjuring well.
He drew an ‘x’ on the marker’s face,
Then knocked thrice to complete the spell.

There was no hint of light or sound-
No lightning as one might expect-
Jean fell to his knees before the stone.
"It all be lies!" He wept.
But then he felt a gentle hand
That lightly touched him on his arm.
"Be still now, Jean Dupree me chile,
And tell me of de harm."

Jean was struck as he studied this ghost,
This woman of kind disposition.
He’d thought he would parley with her corpse,
Or some spectral apparition.
"Mais," he replied, "defan vielle,
Ye know I to be Jean Dupree.
I beg ye Madame Laveau t'elp
Me to find mon belle Rosalee."

"Sit den, Jean Dupree, me chile,
And I he'p ye to find dis girl.
They be no place from lady Moon
To hide upon dis wicked world."
She took the push-pole from his hand
And drew a tiny rusted blade.
She whittled at it while she spoke
Until a sharpened point was made.

"What I do now, Madame Laveau?
Befo' you say about de moon?"
"Patience chile," she said to him,
"De Lady will send t'me soon."
"De Lady very old, Jean Dupree
Older e'en den li’l ol’me!
Older den furies or fates, indeed,
E'en older den Christ she be.

Older still den, when she be Isis.
Older still, when she be Sinai.
E'en she was old when man first fell,
Hid away in Eden's dark side.
Tonight she be known to you and me,
As de delta mother Erzulie,
De mother of all de world she be
And patience, in dis time, learned she."

She returned the push-pole to his hand
And kissed him once upon the cheek
"Take dis now and ye board ye skiff
To de bridge that soon span dis creek."
"When ye reach de bridge, call de name,
And de Lady will send ye aid"
Then she was gone, leaving Jean alone
To carry on with his crusade.

So Jean Dupree launched his skiff again,
Then skimmed across the fetid lagoon,
To the bridge of which Laveau spoke,
Where he'd speak the first name of the moon
And learn sometimes in such dark places
Hide the souls of innocence lost,
Who strayed too far into the bayou,
And were forced to pay the greatest cost.

He found the bridge that crossed the creek,
Made of old stone and rotten wood.
With push-pole in hand he walked it's length,
Until halfway across he stood,
And at the center of the bridge
The moonlight swam and brightly shone
Upon the form of Jean Dupree,
And a tiny pile of sun bleached bone.

As directed by Madame Laveau,
He stooped gently down to one knee,
Closing his eyes as, with a whisper,
He spoke the ancient name: "Erzulie"
His eyes then found a brighter moon
That seemed to him somehow enhanced.
The ancient bones then stood upright,
And began to wildly spin and dance.

Jean stood transfixed, watching the scene.
His weary frame soon filled with fright,
As the dancing twirling skeleton
Began to spool in pure moonlight,
Wrapping and twisting around its frame,
And soon filling it from within,
Until the bones had disappeared,
And were fully dressed in ivory skin.

Then standing there before Jean Dupree
A beautiful young woman smiled,
Radiating moonlight and peace,
Seeming barely more than a child.
"I'll tell you my tale Monsieur Dupree."
Said the princess of the gloomy fen.
"For on this night we will both be free
From long past deeds of evil men."

"I was but one of twenty girls
Born to a man of the bayou.
In leaner times when food was scarce
He would cook one of us in his stew.
Until each in turn were murdered,
Cooked and then, at his leisure, consumed.
But on the night that I was to die
I offered a prayer to the moon.

I pledged to serve her after my life
If she'd but strike my father dead,
And that she did, for as he ate-
It was poison that my body bled.
Now I serve the bright Lady's will,
Which favors best Marie Laveau.
She answers only women’s prayers,
And those of men for women they know."

"I owe the Voodoo Queen, I see,"
Humbly answered young John Dupree.
"Fo' asking you to guide me to
De side o' mon belle Rosalee."
The ghost then climbed aboard Jean's skiff
And the two pushed away from the shore,
Setting out into the dark water
Which hungrily grasped at his oar...

The mist attempted to hide the moon that cast its eerie gaze
Upon those two who traveled through the bayou's twisted maze.
On his skiff that autumn night rode a ghost and Jean Dupree,
Who dared to hunt the Loup-Garou to find the belle Rosalee...

The ghost of the girl upon the skiff
Told Jean about the Loup-Garou,
The darkest demon ever born
On the banks of the southern bayou.
The demon was old and crafty,
And strong in black magic as well
And only the blood of one killed by his son
Could send the thing away to hell.

Jean knew then the purpose of when
Madame Laveau had whittled the pole
That he'd used to split his father's skull,
Damning to Hell the old man’s soul.
The ghost then kneeled upon the skiff,
And offered a prayer to the moon
To guide the two through the darkened glade
To the home of the Loup-Garou.

She knelt to pray with arms outstretched.
Their craft knifed through the darkened plane.
The moonlight shone upon the ghost
And fiercely coursed all through her veins.
Spellbound by the ethereal glow,
Jean Dupree could but gasp and stare.
As light formed a nimbus ‘round the skiff,
And energy charged the stifling air.

The very water below the skiff
Then seemed to Jean to twist and turn.
Impaled upon the push-pole's point,
It began at once to writhe and churn.
The air he breathed became heavy
And smoldered like smoke in his lungs.
It turned acrid and sharply bitter,
Tasting faintly like blood on his tongue.

Ne’er had Jean seen the bayou so black
As it was where his skiff had landed.
The fen there touched the land of the dead,
Where lost human souls were stranded.
For hours he marched that wicked marsh
With the beautiful ghost as his guide,
Whose light kept both the darkness at bay,
And the young Cajun by her side.

For hours they traveled in silence
To and through the bog's dark debris,
Until they finally came to stand
At the base of the Loup-Garou's tree.
And the tree indeed was massive,
At its base, nearly fifty feet 'round,
With frail, blackened, moss-covered limbs,
Sagging sickly to finger the ground.

And halfway up its towering height,
A door had been carved in the bark,
Not hidden as Jean had expected
But menacing there in the dark.
Jean swallowed his fear and charged the tree,
With the hope that there was still time.
But its surface offered no purchase.
The bark too caked in moss and slime.

"Hold, Jean Dupree. It's plain to see
That you'll never climb to that door.
Take my hand and I’ll help you ascend
Then you’ll be with your wife once more."
Jean took the spirit’s tiny hand
And the young girl then told him this,
"I died long ago in this fen,
And may only be freed by a kiss."

"I’ve served the Moon, but know that soon
My time in this world will have passed.
Set me free with a kiss Jean Dupree,
And I'll rejoin my sisters at last."
"But how to reach de door?" Jean asked.
"I no can climb it all alone."
"With your kiss,” she said, “I will die.
You'll build a ladder with my bones."

Jean met her eyes and gave her a kiss,
And her glowing warmth receded.
She slowly dimmed then faded away,
Leaving only the bones he needed.
From those bones he fashioned a ladder
And climbed to find the Loup-Garou,
Scaling the grisly rungs to his goal
In the heart of the dark bayou.

On the last step his shoulder bore down,
Unhinging the door from its frame.
With push-poll held in steady hands,
Jean called out his beloved belle’s name.
But the room was silent and empty,
‘Til the shadows all sifted away.
Then a crimson pool formed at his feet,
And in its center, Rosalee lay.

Jean knelt to lift her up, pulling her close to his chest.
How long he held his wife in his arms it pains us now to guess.
Her body was tattered and broken, a cold and lifeless shell.
Jean gave the girl a final kiss… then wept for the loss of his belle ...

The demon had been out hunting,
Stalking lonely souls lost in the fen,
And was shocked to find on returning
A young Cajun man in his den.
It planned to cruelly torture young Jean,
The fiend failing to understand,
That with his belle Rosalee gone
There was naught he could do to the man.

The Loup-Garou bared his jagged teeth.
He bellowed his rage and his hate,
But Jean’s hatred was quicker by far
And revenge made his aim true and straight.
The scream it then shrieked pierced the night,
And was heard all across the bayou,
Signaling to all of the fen folk
The death of the dread Loup-Garou.

Jean carried the body of his wife
Away from that wicked black marsh,
Wondering why God had seen it fit
To put him through a test so harsh.
He buried her in a Christian grave,
For that was his love’s chosen faith.
He never took another bride,
But instead roamed the swamp like a wraith.

On autumn nights the Voodoo Moon sheds tears upon the bayou,
Mourning the fate of Jean Dupree at the hands of the Loup-Garou,
And still upon his silent skiff fall the tears of Jean Dupree,
Who haunts the swamp still seeking his beloved belle Rosalee.