Into the Breathing World

poem

Photo by Yoav Hornung on Unsplash

---

For decades,
a dilapidated rowboat

waited in the trees
thirty feet away

from the shore
of Benjamin Lake. 

Nobody remembered
anymore which Indian

grandfather had owned
and abandoned it. 

But we Indian kids 
would sometimes sit

in that bent and busted
boat and pretend

that we were rowing
across the vast

ocean. Few of us
had ever seen

any coastline, tide,
or open sea

but, in our minds,
we kept rowing

because we knew
that the scent of salt 

meant that a new
land could be reached.

Perhaps you assume
that all Indians

want to remain in place.
Perhaps that's what

you've been taught.
But it's not true.

Some of us want
to navigate the earth.

The time, velocity,
and distance might

threaten our sanity
but it's a madness

that we desire.
We want to float

into a strange
and dark harbor

and wonder
what wonders

are burning in
the stranger fires.