By Will Falk
wrapped in the dark blanket of night
and feverish with cosmic infections
either I’m shaking
or the sky is
I look to the heavens
with so many wishes
and only so many shooting stars
the last star is erratic
bouncing off her sisters
before she tails away
watching all this
I find it easy to confuse blinking planes
with sincere prayers
when the smoke runs out
and I have nowhere left to go
I retreat into sleep
the cheapest anesthetic available to me
the moon rises
and attempts to explain
what it all means
then the coyotes begin
and one is on the scent
of the way on
I hear but I can’t remember how to listen
I rub down the goose bumps forming
then I add the loss of language
to the list of my afflictions
I like this one, Will. “I hear but I can’t remember how to listen” – something tells me this will reconnect for you on your upcoming journey. A step away from the concrete jungle & boxed in regulations of modern society, a step towards re-learning the language of nature, of companions (human & non). Looking forward to see what lies ahead. Safe travels.
Will Falk says
Thank you very much, T-funk!
Sometimes I wonder if it is possible to re-learn the language of nature in one life-time. Luther Standing Bear, the great Sioux chief in the 1930s, said, “Men must be born and reborn to belong. Their bodies must be formed of the dust of their forefathers’ bones.” One of the great challenges for Europeans, that I see, is that we haven’t lived in so-called North America for very long. Part of the problem with this is our traditional knowledges have been lost and, if we can believe the original peoples of Great Turtle Island (and I think we have to believe them because they were living in a balance here when we showed up), they are telling us it takes a long time to learn to listen to the land.
This shouldn’t be depressing, I don’t think. It just means we need to work under the leadership of the original peoples to restore the land.