Wanderer

mountains rise round, pregnant belly of earth
and the aspens dance with paper-barked madrone
screeching their yellows and reds, brindle and feral
like the snaked hairs of Medusa they threaten
looming over me as I lay miles away on a mesa
the bones of my ancestors, the heart of my child
the pelts of the brown minks my father sewed
the vultures circle, ravished by my demise.
I feed on the pinion and ride mountain lions
down slopes, into valleys, a wanderer, lost and lost
looking eastward, seeking John Chapman
he has something to say, or maybe it’s westward
John Muir, my ears are deaf, my eyes hear a song
emerging from black bear, a surfeit of salmon
burning sage, clearing America, the wild beasts
are defanged and declawed and I am hawk-eyed
Selected by Core Team contributor Corina Ravenscraft
© 2012 Jamie Dedes
All rights reserved
Photo credit ~ Axel Kuhlmann, Public Domian Pictures.net