Highway Lazarus

poem

Photo by Tim Schmidbauer on Unsplash

---

I understand why white
people want to be Indian.

They think we wield
spiritual powers

that don't exist
anywhere else.

That's not true,
of course.

Our preachers
and priests

aren't more gifted
than any others.

But if I did carry
special powers

then I'd pull my car
over to the side

of this highway,
kneel next

to that deer dead
in the ditch,

and pray until
all of its shattered

and separate 
pieces knit

themselves back
together. Yes,

I'd use my newly
acquired power

to save that deer.
I don't know why

this particular
deer

has caused me
to wish 

that I could make
magic from

my empathy.
But, look,

this poem
just made 

that deer rise
from the dirt.

It trembles
and trembles,

stunned
by its rebirth.

I lean close
to its ear

and whisper,
"Go tell

other deer
that I'm here.

Tell them
not to fear me.

Tell them
to bring me

their dead.
But not 

too many.
Every poet

has limits.
Every poet

is arrogant
but I know

this poem
can't resurrect 

every deer.
It can only heal

three or four
at the most.

But please
carry your dead

to me
and I'll write

today
and tonight

and bring a few
broken

things back
to life."