The wolf led us, across the Strait,
down through years, it led us,
calling for us to follow,
through lands of a thousand lakes,
across spiky tundra and spongy muskeg,
through spruce and poplar.
She bade us follow
around great bays beyond the Appalachians
to edge of our world.
She found herself a nest, circled round it
waiting for us to settle in.
Hard rock and water, balsam and black spruce
held home for us as it did the moose,
the bear and roaming caribou.
We fished, speared and netted salmon,
lobster, crab. Copper pots and adornments
came from the stones of our progress.
Quiet in our step upon faithful land,
we tread meadows and made our way,
undisturbed, by other tribes
until we all came to notice of Norse,
then French, Spanish, English
on wide boats, gifts from our beloved sea,
holding many ways to move land
and man and wolves. We did not know
to stop them, nor could we have.
Soon our bones made good compost
at roots of tree that held three branches;
Micmac, Beothuk, White man;
promises held by an old chief.
When mist rose and smoke cleared,
we saw, only through spiritual eyes,
deaths of many kinds; warm land, lush
land, cedar-scented land, wild flowers
marking a place where every Beothuk withered
on that very branch.
We hear grumbling from the bottom
of great cliffs; forsaken children
mourn your reliable maps.
I hear you, grandmothers,
join songs of wolves. You were the first
to die. You have coo’d to us since
in the lullaby of the ocean lapping
below lighthouse trying to find
what has been lost.
In a list
A contest entry
- Picture III - Amaze Me by Cupcrazy.
400 points, ended February 9, 2007, 10 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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This is beautiful and that's all I can say, off to the finalists list for you
Bunny
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pretty amazing
stories of the people are among my favorites and this does not disappoint...writng here is very expressive and sincere very appropriate for the epic sweep of the story. I like this a lot.
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Thank you, Petskid, I need to remember to honor all the songs sung. It is part of our repsonsiblity to make sure we do not forget to lsiten to them
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"We hear grumbling from the bottom
of great cliffs; forsaken children
mourn your reliable maps."
Whoaaa. I agree with Ben~Jammin'. {stands in ovation with respectful silence}
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I sometimes get so invovled in my own little miniseries...that I forget why I must write these. It is necessary to remember some of the stories I know about these first people to be decimated by others..and their own....
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So many lessons, so many opportunities. I would love to say something profound, when perhaps silence would say it best...
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thank you for your comment...it is sacred to remember so it may never happen again. The people had no way to stop what happened....a quiet people who moved to the far reaches to simply settle on their own away from as much chaos as possible...but then to be met second by a force they could not beat... in the end, their own kind wiped them out almost to the last woman, the storyteller that lived a long life to pass what she knew down time to us.
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