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The Ghosts of Altamira
—a meditation
A herd of prehistoric bison; blood beliefs
Depicted in concentric whorls with prints of hands.
Stick petroglyphs which hint at ice age births and griefs,
And spells to bind the mammoths close to tribal lands.
A saber-tooth lies buried in an earthen carpet
Beside the broken jawbone of some ancient foe.
The ooze of pitch-black terror from the nearby tar pit
Proves predator and prey were trapped and pulled below.
Harsh lightning bursts out streaks which might ignite the plains
With flames so fleet they may destroy entire herds
In smoky crimson death; or augur pregnant rains
To end the drought, restoring feral pigs and birds.
The eons that the paintings in this cave have weathered!
Millennia bear witness to strange sights the Dreamers
Displayed as art—their brute imaginations tethered
To butchered sinews, tusks, or weaponizing femurs.
To chip at basalt for a week to craft a knife
Or rend a bison’s skin to fix a sharpened spear…
It seems so simple. There was only death or life
And anxious dread that angry spirits might appear.
I wonder… have things really changed so much since then?
The ease of sparking fire; the quality of rope;
The cut of leather hide; the stone-strong homes of men
Have changed, but not the hunger to survive. Or hope.
An arms race arcs from arrowheads to atom bombs
With little changing in the intervening years.
Birth still draws gasps of awe, disease brings painful qualms,
And earthquakes, thunderstorms and hunger still stoke fears.
At night the crystal stars and moon still touch the heart—
And in the morn: the Cave of Altamira calls
For me to enter Time itself, to gaze at art
From fat and ash combined to hallow cavern walls.
A prehistoric boy lived here. His bones record
A fatal fall—perhaps caused by heroic deeds.
We call him “primitive,” yet he was much adored
For he was found with fossil pollen and bone beads.
Imagine! Laid to rest with heirlooms and fresh flowers!
I close my eyes. If lost, would we be mourned at all?
My soul is chilled with ancient fears—it quails and cowers
As primal silence bares the writing on the wall.
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Poet’s Note: The Cave of Altamira is located near the historic town of Santillana del Mar in Cantabria, Spain. It is renowned for its prehistoric cave art by Cro-Magnon men featuring charcoal drawings and polychrome paintings of contemporary local fauna and human hands. The earliest paintings were applied during the Upper Paleolithic period, around 36,000 years ago.
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Shanidar 1
When he was born the world was locked in ice
And would be for millennia to come.
His swaddling cloth was woolly mammoth skin
And he was brought forth with a withered arm.
He lived some sixty-thousand years ago
In Shanidar—a cave in north Iraq
Which anthropologists have found and studied.
His brow ridges were quite pronounced, his chin
Was very weak, his nose and skull too large.
His brain capacity exceeded ours.
These fossil bones belonged once to a man
Who died at 45. In those brute times
This was in fact astonishingly old.
In Science terms he’s dubbed “Neanderthal.”
Besides the defect of the withered arm
He also had a crush wound to his head
So that one eye was rendered blind and he
Had hearing loss. At one time he had suffered
Two broken legs. How did this man survive
Past childhood let alone to 45?
The tribe within his cave had to have joined
Together taking turns to feed this man
And nurse him so that he could live what seems
A most eventful life. We’ll never know
His name but those who found him called him “Nandy.”
His fractured bones well-healed announce the birth
Of altruism… What a sterile way
To say this crippled man was deeply loved!
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Poet’s Note: Shanidar Cave is an archaeological site in the Kurdistan Region of northern Iraq. Neanderthal remains were discovered here in 1953, including Shanidar 1, whose survival of multiple serious injuries can only be explained by attentive care from others in his group. Until this discovery, Cro Magnons, the earliest known Homo sapiens in Europe, were the only individuals known for purposeful, ritualistic burials.
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Brian Yapko is a retired lawyer whose poetry has appeared in over fifty journals. He is the winner of the 2023 SCP International Poetry Competition. Brian is also the author of several short stories, the science fiction novel El Nuevo Mundo and the gothic archaeological novel Bleeding Stone. He lives in Wimauma, Florida.
What a great phrase ‘weaponizing femurs’ is, in The Ghosts of Altamira. I love the descriptions, research and the comparisons you make without any hint of superiority, but actually equating us and our distant relatives. The depiction of the boy ‘Laid to rest with heirlooms and fresh flowers’ was tear-welling.
Shanidar-1 bears the same message as The Ghosts of Altamira, a message of selflessness in a time of materialism. The final couple of lines really strike home.
Thanks for two invigourating reads, Brian.
Thank you very much indeed, Paul! I’m especially pleased that you noted no “hint of superiority.” I was very much hoping to show similarities rather than differences. Of the two poems, Shanidar 1 is my favorite. I didn’t have to fictionalize one detail. All I did was interpret the evidence.
You have tapped into my thoughts about how not only ancient humans, but relatively recent humans lived without the modern conveniences we take for granted. How dismal life must have been for great grandparents without radio or television to keep them occupied in their elderly years, especially those whose hearing and eyesight faded away until they could only dwell in their own thoughts while in a rocking chair going nowhere. Then to so brilliantly take us back to the age of the Neanderthal and the cave man with “primal silence.”
Roy – As one who lived in early childhood with no electricity or running water and a hand crank telephone in an oak box – the privy was about 100 feet from the back door – I can tell you that life was not at all dismal, but quite the opposite. We actually had conversations with each other, and worked (yes, even the children) and played together and we were all very happy and blessed. Those of us still surviving those times understand very well the idle time provided by modern conveniences and the occasional miscreant activities that result from them.
Robert, I am in full agreement with you. Modern technology may make things faster and more efficient, but they do little to increase happiness or the quality of our souls. I’m on the fence as to whether they are an actual net negative.
Thank you for commenting, Roy, and the interesting meditation you have offered in response to mine. I have often had similar thoughts about our ancestors (near and distant) who have had to find ways to occupy time without the benefit of technology. During the recent hurricane here I got to experience that for several days. I played the piano a little. Read a little. And we talked. I don’t want to go through that again but it’s nice to be reminded that computers and cell phones are tools only. We can get by without them if we have to. In fact, maybe we’d be better off.
Thank you, Brian, for these wonderful reflections, so engagingly and well expressed. I love the strong and very appropriate rhyming words you use throughout “The Ghosts of Altamira”.
Thank you so much, Bruce. I’m very glad you enjoyed them!
Thank you for these two fine poems that explore our prehistoric past. I particularly like how you have expressed that these two individuals were obviously cared for and loved. We tend to view archaeological findings and remains too impersonally forgetting that they were living, breathing humans who dwelt in caring communities.
Love is the most ancient power of all, reaching far into the past and transcending Time. Thank you, Isabella, for understanding these poems so deeply. As you say, they were indeed “living breathing humans” who were deeply loved and knew how to love. As is true today, what they wore, what treasures they gathered, what types of homes they lived in… all recede dramatically in importance next to what their souls were like.
The Ghosts of Altamira is especially powerful, and the final stanza with its “I close my eyes. If lost, would we be mourned at all?” is poignant in the extreme. First rate poetry.
Thank you very much indeed, James! I struggled a bit, so knowing that you found the ending poignant is very gratifying to me.
Two wonderfully thought provoking poems, Brian, from an obviously encyclopedic mind! How I envy educations of your caliber. You’d clean house on ‘Jeopardy’, my friend. Fascinating both –
Mark, thank you so much for this kind comment. “Encyclopedic?” Not so. But I’ll own up to a wide range of interests. Prehistory has intrigued me ever since I was a child and read of the boys who accidentally discovered the Lascaux Cro-Magnon cave art in France. And then there was The Clan of the Cave Bear and Jean Auel’s “Earth’s Children” series of novels about the interactions between Cro-Magnons and Neanderthals. Anthropology, paleontology, archaeology… I love this stuff.
Brian, wonderful. Do not need a picture to see all that. In my mind/soul, it recalls, by no coincidence, Mark Knopfler: his music, Altamira, https://youtu.be/xdAhSZB2lh8?si=ARFPICVW2LTx5loN, and words: “we haven’t changed since ancient times” (Iron Hand, https://youtu.be/Zja63r8O2jU?si=no9kOVLUahEsKZgQ).
Thank you so much, Michael! I’m looking forward to a few quiet moments when I can watch the Youtube links you’ve sent me. Altamira has a special fascination for me so I’m especially excited to hear music inspired by it.
The alexandrines of the “Altamira” poem’s quatrains are expertly handled, and their slow movement adds to the meditative, careful description of what the cave paintings show, and how they were made, and what labors were required of persons back then.
And after that description the speaker shifts to thoughts of warfare (then and now), the death of a young boy, and the clear evidence of respect and love that was shown in his burial. All of a sudden, the distance of 36,000 years seems not so long ago.
“Shanidar I” shows us a human being almost twice as old (60,000 years). An old man with many healed injuries who could only have survived with the help and love of his tribal companions is a mute archaeological testament to loyalty, love, and solidarity going back sixty millennia.
Let me add a general comment about the craft of these poems. No intelligent reader would have a problem reading them; they state their meaning in clear and sophisticated English; and they make no attempt to manipulate us other than perhaps evoking our emotions by careful description and by a few rhetorical questions. The poems are as lucid as flawless diamonds, and as straightforward as a handshake.
And you know what most poetry editors would say if the poems were submitted to them? I can just hear the chorus: “Too prosaic! Too formal! Too much fancy diction! Not enough current relevance! Too emotionally repressed! Not enough political significance!”
You know that you’re living in a Dark Age when two excellent poems such as these would be almost universally rejected as unworthy of publication.
There a dozens poetry sites and anthologies that accept formal poetry. If you believe there aren’t and can’t be bothered looking for them because of preconceptions, whose fault is that?
“Dozens” is a very small percentage in the po-biz world, where there are hundreds of poetry sites and magazines that wouldn’t deign to look at a formal poem. And when it comes to the prestigious and elite publications, the percentage is even tinier.
But if you happen to have located a couple of dozen places that take your stuff, congratulations.
Thank you for the reminder, Paul, that SCP is not the only publication which accepts classical poetry. But, as I noted in my response to Joe, I do note that the overwhelming majority of publications are more interested in free verse than classical. Some will publish the occasional sonnet or villanelle but it’s treated almost as an oddity. I also must note that ideological tests exist with many publications. I am mostly canceled because of expressing conservative viewpoints. The poetry publication business seems to overwhelmingly favor liberal points of view.
Thank you very much, Joe, for this very generous comment. Your analysis of both poems is spot-on and if you had the thought that “36,000 years seems not so long ago” then I achieved precisely what I set out to do. Altamira here is the more traditionally poetic of the two pieces but I have a special fondness for Shanidar 1 since it’s in the driest possible blank verse, basically using a forensic spotlight to analyze this once-living person and, despite the cold language of anthropology nonetheless reach the detached conclusion that this man’s life was saved by love. I only describe the evidence and then interpet this evidence in the concluding line.
I’m especially grateful for your comments about the quality of both poems. I do put in the effort so “lucid as flawless diamonds” means a lot — especially from so accomplished a poet and critic.
As for your final comments, I daresay that you are right about the poetry publication world — for the most part. I’ve had a number of publications outside of SCP but 90% are free verse — the classical poetry (which is where my poetic heart lies) has almost always been rejected, albeit without any commentary at all, so I don’t know what the editors were thinking. I also must say that since I’ve published conservative points of view on SCP, all other publication possibilities dried up for me. It’s almost as if they were investigating me for ideological purity. In other words — as you once predicted on my “On the Existence of Two Genders” poem — I was canceled. Not only do the majority of poetry publications want free verse — they want liberal points of view. Conservatives need not apply.
Thank God for Evan Mantyk and the Society of Classical Poets.
Brian, “The Ghosts of Altamira” is an exquisite piece of poetry that paints a tangible linguistic picture with word combinations that simply shine. I especially like the very human traits that merge the primitive with present-day souls – that “hunger to survive” and “hope”. In this divisive age of victimhood and hate, this poem strips everything back to the bare basics, finds a common denominator, and in doing so teaches us a lesson in the power and beauty of love.
“Shanidar 1” complements the first poem beautifully. This is another of your poems that paints a vivid picture with the medium of wonderfully woven words. The story is heart-touching, and the closing three lines shimmer with the secret of the best medicine this world has to offer.
These striking and skillfully written poems are instant favorites. Brian, thank you.
Thank you so much, Susan, for these kind words! I ‘m always thrilled when you enjoy my work. As you have noted, I very much wanted to depict prehistoric men with an emphasis on how very similar we are to them even though things have changed — superficially. The stuff doesn’t matter. Nor need we debate which is the greater invention: the computer or the spearhead? In the end, what matters is the “humanness” we share — and that includes hunger to survive, to hope and, most of all, to love.
As I’ve noted in other comments, in “Shanidar 1” I simply let the forensic evidence speak for itself. And that evidence leads to the clinical determination of the triumph of love. Isn’t that amazing? In my poetic universe, science is always respected — but it is kept firmly in place as a mere vehicle for revelations of the spirit. And the Spirit.
These are classic, Brian. And they are you, the poet, engaged in “soul searching.” Souls are individual, so you find one in each of these two poems–and present something of your own soul, especially in the second portion of “Ghosts.” Ghosts are disembodied souls, or souls no longer inhabiting bodies that serve as your paths into time. More than a touch of your time-travel interests here!
Art is said to be the “signature of mankind,” because none of the beasts make it. Yes, birds construct fabulous nests, but work by instinct, and produce something needed for bodily reproduction. Art like the cave paintings depicts more than observed surroundings. As you say, it hints at births and griefs and spells–emotional and spiritual aspirations that are functions of the soul.
There is a kind of body-soul dichotomy in each poem. You divide them neatly into two equal parts. “Ghosts of Altamira” shows you painting pictures that reflect those on cave walls in the first five stanzas. Then “I wonder,” and we see the artist’s soul in thoughts we are unable to receive from the prehistoric men he considers. You do briefly focus on the “primitive” boy, but the greatness of this poem is the whole of reflections summarized so well in its final lines.
This poem is, in my judgment, the better of the two because it deals more effectively with “universals.” Even your artist persona slightly merges with that of the cave artists before you go on to meditation. I am a bit bemused, however, by your calling them “the Dreamers.” Maybe the word would be better not capitalized, as it has specific American political and European cinematic connotations. And used in the sense of American Indian dreams and dream-catchers, it is something else again. But perhaps it refers simply to unconscious revelations shared by poet and subjects. I think you necessarily display some condescension toward their spirituality in “there was only death or life and anxious dread that angry spirits might appear.” Of course we know nothing at all of their beliefs or practices, but the statement is reductionist, and from my point of view doesn’t correspond to a “continuity of religion” in the interrelated human race. Or to deeper investigations that have been made of “primitive” peoples living now. No fault of yours, but probably arises from a pervasive belief in cultural evolution, whether or not you share it.
The second poem is less universal, and more personal in relation to one individual–as you intend. It therefore includes date and age, which report the judgment of current science. The acceptance of these figures sets “the experts” between you as observer and the person who is your subject. You seem to realize that near the end, and strain to define him as an object of love rather than altruism. You achieve that with a bit of self-criticism! And I agree that “altruism” is a most unlikely explanation of the care given this person. Nor did his need call forth the love. He was probably, I would think, a king or demi-god of sorts, early identified as in the choice of the Dalai Lama.
Humanity through the millennia is a daunting topic! Both of these are creditable poems, and in “Ghosts of Altamira” even the millennia can be numbered in creative imagination. How long did it really take before we got to building and farming?
Many thanks for your insightful comments regarding these two poems, Margaret. Especially your insights on ghosts and art. But a word first about time travel – I do unapologetically enjoy a good time travel story and have written a few myself. But what I find more and more – especially as a poet – is a certain view of time as no longer linear. It seems right there to visit, almost as if it were a different country one could enter or even just stepping into the next room. That is very much how I feel about the past and one of the reasons why I find it satisfying to write poetry “which simply steps into the next room” and allows us to visit people who lived long ago but are still alive. Alive in us, in fact. Farinelli has something to say to us as does my leper, Mrs. Cain, my Romans, and others. Not because they are historical but because they are contemporary and not meaningfully different from us. And, as I see it, that goes all the way back to my Shanidar 1. I don’t actually travel back in time. I bring people from the past into the present and dare you, the reader, to differentiate them from the people you actually meet on the street.
You are right to see “souls” as important to these poems – both poems as well as whatever is revealed of the poet. As I stated in an earlier reply, I have written poems which have a scientific bent (anthropology has always interested me) but I see the science in them important mainly as yet another tool to understand things spiritual. This may, perhaps, be one reason I’ve never felt Science to be a threat to Faith. In the end, I see Science as an illumination of the tools God has used in creating and running the universe.
Your comment about “Dreamers” is also insightful. Having lived in New Mexico and having had access to a steady supply of dream-catchers, I fleetingly thought about the possibility of Dreamers having that type of tribal association. I decided it was worth it, in party because the Indian culture that existed in the American Southwest was, pre-contact, essentially neolithic – the same as the pre-bronze stone age of the late Cro-Magnon tribes. I also considered the Dreamers among the Aborigines of Australia, who are famous for their dream visions. My conceit was an analogizing of the unknown mysteries of Cro-Magnon culture to such dream-vision cultures as exist in historical times – associations which I judged felicitous rather than distracting.
You lose me utterly in your analysis regarding altruism versus love in Shanidar 1. I believe they are deeply related, with altruism the dry scientific way of describing something that is spiritual and ultimately indescribable. In my view of the conclusion the evidence reveals a triumph of love — this is my allowable poetic explanation of the evidence and, indeed, my poetic wording of the scientific concensus. In all the research I did on this poor crippled soul, I’ve never seen an explanation other than that his tribesman took care of him. Nor is there one shred of evidence of princely or religious status that would account for your surprisingly clinical theory to explain noble conduct. These are Neanderthal people and we have no concept whatsoever of their religion or how they defined social status so your “royalty” comment strikes me as a peculiar projection. I’m not sure why the conclusion of authentic “love” troubles you. Is it because the poem depicts something non-biblical and yet finds love to be a powerful force? In my judgment, Love is what Occam’s razor leads us to: love, pure and simple.
Brian, these two poems are magnificent! In their timelessness they bring to mind the fascinating artwork on the album cover of the Moody Blues’ “To Our Children’s Children’s Children”. As a culture we are sometimes unwitting bearers of what C. S. Lewis called “chronological snobbery”, fancying ourselves to be on the ever upward path of human evolution; yet, in reality, fighting the same battles our ancient forebears fought. Their vindication is that, after countless forgotten generations, their art has survived, and tells us a salient and timeless story.
Thank you so much, Dan! I wasn’t familiar with the Moody Blues cover so I just looked it up. It’s artwork is exactly right in terms of my poetry. Glad you brought it to my attention.
I am so glad that you brought up the subject of chronological snobbery, or chronocentrism. I think many suffer this in contemporary society believing, somehow, that we are the culmination of history and that, therefore, our society, our knowledge, our insights are all superior to what our forebears enjoyed. It is foolish and arrogant in the extreme. We are but one more chapter in a very long book which we did not write and which has yet to be completed.