Oetzi - Stephen A. Roberts

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This is the story of iceman Oetzi:
A cold case murder mystery  
Where the world's oldest blood has dried 
The crime preserved, mummified

  
In a mountain village long ago 
A traveller came down from the snow 
He is welcomed and offered sustenance 
As they listen eagerly to his accounts 

But with his tales of nomadic life 
Oetzi charmed another man's wife 
The jealous husband  was dismayed 
And scored the visitor with a blade 

Oetzi apologised, moved on, bade farewell 
But the wife had changed and all could tell 
She took on a mournful distant look 
So the man wanted Oetzi brought to book 

This interloper caused him loss of face 
How dare he challenge his rightful place 
Enraged he sets off , bow in hand 
Towards the high alpine pastureland 

The wanderer strolled on unaware 
Far above the meadows, into cooler air 
Then Oetzi sat: he had dined his last 
He reflected on the women in his past 

She was the one: in the valley below 
It only took one look to know 
But she belonged to another man 
And Oetzi respected this higher plan 

Musing as he climbed the glacier 
One day perhaps he would again see her 
(If he turned back now he would have seen 
The villager turned killing machine) 

Still tracking the stranger for cruel revenge 
Three hundred years before Stonehenge 
Above his rasping mountain breath 
Oetzi did not hear the arrowed death 

Punctured by that fatal blow 
Oetzi laid gasping in the crimson snow 
His killer eschewed the copper axe 
He wanted to leave no fossil tracks 

And maybe underneath that ancient sky 
The murderer stood and watched Oetzi die 
To hear familiar words in an ancient tongue 
"Why my brother? - I did you no wrong..." 

This is a story as old as time 
Forever frozen above the treeline 
Man's cold hatred, built to kill 
Nothing changes, time stands still 

Stephen A. Roberts

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