Hour Seven: Shrunken Head

It had belonged to a man, a warrior in the Andes who met his end
among the headhunter tribes who lived there then.
They sewed his eyes shut, closed his mouth with wooden splints,
soaked his head in an herbal concoction
to shrink it to a third in size.
An overnight smoking, a decorating ritual in the morning,
and his evil power would also be reduced.
Bereft of all supernatural strength,
the head could be returned to its tribe.

Now I gaze at it through its glass case
in the museum in San Juan.
I know its closed eyes could not see me
and yet I feel an accusatory stare.
“We were barbaric?
And your leaders,
They are so civilized?”
“Touché,” I murmur
as I move on
to the next display.

Look on your phone and find the 10th non selfie picture and use that as your prompt. – Prompt by Deborah Dalton